BV 




Glass_ 

Book > / v 



AGATHOS, 



AND OTHER 



SUNDAY STORIES. 



BY SAMUEL WILBERFORCE, M.A. 

ARCHDEACON OF SURREY. 



" MY SPEECH SHALL DTSTTL AS THE DEW, AS THE SMALL RATN UPON 
FIB TENDER HERB."— DEUT. XXXII. 2. 
'* EVEN A CHILD IS KNOWN BY HIS DOINGS." PROV. XX. 11. 



FOURTH EDITION. 



PUBLISHED BY R. B. SEELEY AND W. BURNSIDE: 

AND SOLD BY L. AND G. SEELEY, 

FLEET STREET, LONDON. 

MDCCCXLL 









LONDON : 
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL. 



PREFACE. 



The following allegories and stories have 
been actually related by the Author to 
his children on successive Sunday even- 
ings. He began the practice with the 
earnest desire of combining some sort of 
occupation suitable to the Lord's day, 
with something which might amuse his 
little ones. Few parents can, he thinks, 
have failed to feel the want which he 
would here hope in some measure to 
supply. 



IV PREFACE. 

On the one hand, if the conversations 
and employments of Sunday are not early 
marked as different from those of other 
days, how is it possible that our chil- 
dren can grow up with a deeply-rooted 
reverence for its holiness ? On the other 
hand, if the day is one which they re- 
member only for its dulness, how can chil- 
dren grow up in the love of this blessed 
season ? " Everlasting droopings,"* their 
young hearts least of all will " bear." 
And if on other days they are used to 
amusing employments, if they love (and 
all children should be made to love them) 
the times of relaxation in which they see 
their parents as friends, and in some sort 
companions ; what else can happen, if on 
this day all amusement be banished, and 
all interest removed, but that they will grow 
* Herbert's Country Pastor, cxxvii. 



PREFACE. V 

insensibly to feel the Lord's day a weari- 
ness. But if the week-day's tale is 
changed for the Sunday story ; and if the 
child is really interested in it ; he learns, 
even unawares, to separate in his own mind 
the first day of the week from its common 
days ; and that by a pleasurable separation. 

Such has been, to a remarkable degree, 
the effect of the first telling of these 
stories in the Author's family ; and such 
he cannot help hoping may be more widely 
their effect when they are given to the 
public. The questions at the close of each 
are designed as tracks, not as grooves ; and 
they may easily be multiplied or reduced 
in number, according to the judgment of 
the parent, or the age and intelligence of 
the child. Some of them are the very 
answers he received from his children. 

One word more should be said about 
a3 



VI PREFACE. 

the plan of these narratives. The Au- 
thor's greatest care has been, while inter- 
weaving in them as much instruction as 
he could about the Holy Scriptures, its 
allegories, and some of its most striking 
narratives, to keep as far as possible from 
all lowering down of holy things, or mak- 
ing the mysteries of the faith common 
and cheap to childish imaginations. Against 
this most dangerous evil, which appears to 
him to infest and poison many of the cur- 
rent religious books for children, he begs 
here most earnestly to protest, as against 
that which is laying unawares the founda- 
tion of untold evils, in accustoming the 
mind to look curiously, and with levity, 
on things which man must never approach 
but with humiliation and adoration. "Put 
off thy shoes from off thy feet ; for 
the place whereon thou standest is holy 



PREFACE. Vll 

ground." This should be from the first 
the temper carefully wrought into our 
children's minds, if we would have them 
approach God with acceptance. 

To teach them to think boldly of mys- 
teries, in the vain hope of explaining to 
their childish minds what, in the fulness of 
their highest understanding, they can never 
truly comprehend, may make them shrewd 
and forward questioners, but cannot make 
them meek and teachable disciples. 

It only remains further to say, for what 
age these stories are intended. The 
authors children reach from five to nine 
years old, and are of ordinary powers of 
comprehension. Of these, the eldest has 
been fully interested by the simplest nar- 
ratives, and the youngest has understood 
the most difficult. All the applications of 
the allegorical tales, they of course will 



Vlll PREFACE. 

not understand at first ; but in the author's 
judgment, this is the very excellence of 
allegorical instruction. The minds of 
children may be fatally dwarfed, by never 
having presented to them anything but that 
which they can understand without effort ; 
whilst it is exceeding difficult to devise 
anything which shall at the same time 
attract their attention and stretch their 
faculties. It is exactly this want which 
allegory supplies : the story catches the 
attention of the youngest; glimpses of 
the under-meaning continually flash into 
their minds ; and whilst it is difficult to say 
exactly how much they have fully under- 
stood, it is clear that it has been enough 
to give them interest, and arouse their 
faculties. 

May God hereby bless some of the 
tender lambs of His fold. 



ADVERTISEMENT 

TO THE SECOND EDITION. 



The rapid sale of a numerous edition of 
this little work, not only proves the exist- 
ence of the want which it is intended to 
supply, but it is also a gratifying mark of 
the kindness with which the attempt has 
been received. 

On one point the author has been re- 
quested to say a single word in explan- 
ation of his plan. Some of the stories are 
gathered from Holy Scripture, and yet do 
not adhere in every particular to the letter 
of the Bible narrative ; and he has been 
requested to explain the principle of such 
variations. They consist, then, he would 



X ADVERTISEMENT. 

say, in every case, of the mere marking 
out of lines which the general sketch of 
Scripture appeared to him to contain : — 
the filling up for his young readers of the 
picture, which is set before them there in 
outline merely. Thus, for instance, in the 
ninth story, David is represented as slay- 
ing the lion and the bear in a time of 
snow, though this is not mentioned in the 
passage w r hich records the fact. But in 
another chapter we find the slaying of a 
lion especially recorded, with the addi- 
tion that it was " in the time of snow," 
(2 Sam. xxiii. 20) : and this seeming to 
point out the season of the year at which 
such beasts were wont to leave their more 
retired haunts, it is introduced to perfect 
the picture which the brief narrative of 
Scripture sketches only in outline. 

No further liberty has been taken with 
the letter of God's word ; and this does 
not, the author trusts, exceed the just 
and necessary limits of exposition. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 
AGATHOS, OR THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD ... 1 

THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE 17 

THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON 24 

THE CHILDREN AND THE LION 32 

THE STORM AT SEA 39 

THE TWO ROADS 64 

THE SPRING MORNING £9 

THE RUNNERS 109 

THE YOUNG SHEFHERD 132 

THE TENT ON THE PLAIN — HOLY BAPTISM . . . .139 



SUNDAY STORIES. 



AGATHOS, 
OR THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD. 

There was once a brave king whose coun- 
try was visited by a very fierce and 
deadly Dragon. The king chose out there- 
fore some of his best soldiers, and sent 
them into that part of the land where this 
dragon was doing so much mischief. Be- 
fore they went, he said to them — ' You all 
know that I have fought with this dragon 
and conquered and smote him, though he 
put forth all his rage and power against 
me. All my faithful followers must tread 



2 AGATHOS, OR 

in my footsteps ; they must overcome as 
I overcame, and then they shall sit upon 
the steps of my throne. Therefore I 
send you out to fight with this monster, 
and my strength shall go forth with you 
in the battle. Be therefore upon your 
guard. If you remember my words, and 
call upon my name in the time of danger ; 
and above all, if you take and use boldly 
all the armour I have provided for you ; 
then the dragon can never hurt you. But 
if he finds you unprepared — if he comes 
upon you without your armour, then he 
will certainly set upon you and slay you/ 
The soldiers promised to be upon their 
guard, and set off in high spirits into the 
land where the evil beast lay. When 
first they came there, they kept their 
guard very diligently, and always wore 
their armour. They never all slept at 
once ; but some always watched whilst the 
others rested. It was a fine sight to see 
these brave men in their shining armour, 



THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD. 15 

who had fought himself with the enemy, 
and now sends out his soldiers to fight ? 

C. Jesus Christ our Saviour, who once 
fought with Satan for us ; and now sends 
out his people to resist him. 

F. Who are his soldiers ? 

C. All those who are members of his 
church. 

F. Can you remember what the Bap- 
tismal Service says about this ? 

C. When the minister makes the sign 
of the cross upon the child's forehead, he 
says that he does it "in token that he shall 
not be ashamed to confess the faith of 
Christ crucified, but manfully to fight 
under his banner against sin, the world, 
and the devil, and to continue Christ's 
faithful soldier and servant unto his life's 
end." 

F. What does the Catechism call Satan 
against whom you are to strive ? 

C. " My ghostly enemy." 

F. Who are safe against him ? 



16 AGATHOS. 

C. Those who live in prayer and watch- 
fulness, and keep on all the christian 
armour. 

F. Who are tempted to lay aside these ? 

C. We all are ; for we are all apt to 
grow weary in watching and prayer. 

F. What will happen to us if we do 
grow weary, and cease to watch ? 

C. We shall be overtaken by the devil, 
and become his prey. 

F. If we watch are we safe ? 

C. Yes, for Christ our master will then 
keep us. 

F. What has he promised us about this 
in his word ? 

C. "Resist the devil, and he will flee 
from you." James iv. 7. 



II. 



THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 

The spring time was come; and the birds 
had all built their nests ; and sat upon 
their smooth round eggs till they had 
hatched them ; and now they were busy 
flying here and there, and running alon^ 
the ground, some picking up seeds, and 
some catching flies, and some seizing every 
worm which put his head above the damp 
ground ; and all carrying them off as fast 
as possible to feed their young ones, as 
they were taught to do by the instinct 
which God Almighty had given them. It 
was a busy happy scene. Cheerful too it 
was to the ear as well as to the eye ; for 
sometimes they stopped from their labour 
c3 



18 THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 

to sing a song of praise to the good God 
who has made this happy world. 

Amongst these birds there were two 
great black ones called Ravens. These 
flew to a town a long way off, and there 
they .lighted by a great shop, where a man 
was busy selling bread and meat to the 
people who came to buy. The man threw 
them each a lump of bread and piece of 
meat for the sport of the people round : 
and the birds took them in their strong 
beaks, and flew straight away with them ; 
and the people clapped their hands and 
shouted. But they were all surprised 
when just at night the same birds came 
again to the same place and seemed to ask 
for more ; and then flew away with what 
was given them, just as they had done in 
the morning. The next day they came 
again as soon as the shop was open, and 
when they had got what they wanted, 
away they flew~ with it, and were seen no 
more till night ; and then again they only 



THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 19 

stayed till some bread and meat was given 
them ; and then nobody saw more of them. 
Many persons tried to watch them ; they 
must have, it was thought, some great nest 
near, and they took all this with them to 
feed their nestlings. 

But perhaps these people were quite 
wrong ; for God, who has taught birds in 
general to feed their young ones, has 
before now taught them a different lesson. 
So it was at that time of which we read in 
the Bible, when he taught Ravens to feed 
one of the Prophets. If any one could have 
flown with them and seen all their doings, 
it would have been a strange sight. How 
they got the meat we do not know ; but 
we know that any one who could have 
flown with them, would have seen that 
as soon as they got it they flew straight 
away with it to another country. Then 
they passed over a land where every thing 
was dry and burnt up for want of rain. 
It had not rained for a whole year, and all 



20 THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 

the brooks were dry. The little streams 
which had leaped from stone to stone were 
drunk in by the thirsty ground, and their 
murmuring voice was no more heard ; the 
corn was parched up and would not grow ; 
the grass was dried and withered; the cattle 
had eaten it quite close down to the dusty 
earth, and then had grown thinner and 
thinner till they had died. Men's faces 
had grown thin and sharp, and their eyes 
looked hungrily out of their sunk cheeks ; 
and their tongues were dry, and swelled 
with thirst ; and they walked about, here 
and there, looking for food, and for water, 
and they could not find any. 

Child. There w T as a great famine in 
that land. 

Father. Yes, there w r as a great famine. 
The people of the land had sinned against 
God, and he had bid " the clouds that they 
should rain no rain upon it." And if you 
could have flown with those Ravens you 
would have heard a great voice of sadness, 



THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 21 

and sighing, and sorrow, rising from all 
that land as they flew over it. 

But where do you think the Ravens 
were flying to ? They flew over all that 
land till they came to a cave in the side of 
a high sandy hill ; and if you could have 
looked into that cave you would have seen, 
not a nest of young Ravens, but one man 
sitting, or standing, or kneeling by the 
side of a little brook that rose high up 
in the cave, and sunk just below in the 
thirsty land, so that no one else knew 
of it. 

Perhaps you might have seen this good 
man kneeling down and lifting up his 
hands towards the sky, and saying, O 
Lord God, who has kept me hitherto, and 
ordered the wild ravens to feed me, take 
thou care of me this day, for Thou art my 
God, and I am Thy servant. 

And then the mouth of the cave was 
darkened for a moment ; it was by the 
wings of the great ravens, as they flew in 



and laid down the meat and the bread 
before the good man's feet ; and he would 
rise and gather a few dry sticks to dress 
the meat at the cave's mouth, and drink 
some of the clear spring water, and then 
kneel down again to thank his God who 
had taught the Ravens to fly all over the 
starving country to bring it to him in this 
lonely cave. 

F. Can you tell me where this story 
comes from ? 

C. Yes, we may read it in the xviith 
chapter of the 1st book of Kings. 

F. Who was it that was thus fed by 
ravens ? 

C. The prophet Elijah, by the brook 
Cherith. 

F. Why did God thus take care of 
him ? 

C. Because he was his faithful servant. 

F. Yes, my child, and so it shall always 
be. He will never leave nor forsake those 



THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 23 

who trust in him and serve him truly. 
He will feel and care for a child that 
prays to Him. " The young lions do lack 
and suffer hunger ; but they who trust in 
the Lord shall want no manner of thing 
that is good." 



III. 

THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 

There was a deep dungeon — its walls 
were all green and stained with the damp 
which had long hung on them ; its floor 
was made of cold rough stones. It had 
one small window, across which were 
thick iron bars, and it was so narrow and 
so high up, that hardly any light came from 
it to the floor. It was night, and all was 
quite still and silent there : even in the 
day, no cheerful sound came into that sad 
place ; not even a bird's song was ever 
heard there ; scarcely even a fly could 
ever be seen in it ; but now it was night, 
and dark, and silent, except when now 
and then the moving of chains was heard 
on that dungeon's floor. For a man was 



THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 25 

lying there chained; by chains which went 
round his wrists. But his chains made no 
noise now, for he was lying still : he was 
asleep ; sleeping as quietly, and breathing 
as gently as if he were a child. How 
could he be sleeping so gently ? Did he 
know where he was ? Yes, he well knew : 
and he knew too, that when the sun rose 
the next morning, and woke so many 
persons all around him to their daily 
work, or to their daily pleasures, that it 
would see him led out of that prison to be 
put to a cruel death : for that the very 
next morning he was to be killed. Then 
surely he must have been some very 
wicked man ; for why else should he be in 
that dungeon, and why else should he be 
about to be killed. You would the more 
have thought so if you could have seen 
all ; for you would have seen that he was 
chained to two soldiers, who lay on each 
side of him, with their weapons ready 
to slay him if he were to move. Fierce 
D 



26 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 

evil-looking men they were, of dark and 
savage faces ; they were asleep, but even 
in their sleep they looked angry and 
cruel. The gate of the dungeon too was 
barred and locked, and there were four 
other soldiers asleep outside it ; and beyond 
them again was a great iron gate fast 
closed, so that surely he must be a very 
wicked and desperate man whom they 
are guarding with this strength and care. 
And yet, if you could look into his face, 
you would see him sleeping quietly and 
calmly. A little child upon the knees 
of his mother, could hardly sleep more 
gently. An*l could he sleep so if he were 
indeed a wicked man ? Could his con- 
science be asleep when he was thus deep 
in the dungeon, and death coming so near 
to him ? No doubt he could not : no 
doubt that his sleep could not have been 
what it was, unless God had been with 
him there : for he was a holy man, one 
who did indeed love God, one who had 



THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 27 

followed Jesus Christ when He lived upon 
this earth, and whom with eleven* others 
Jesus Christ had trusted to govern His 
church, now that He had ascended into 
heaven. He had been thrown into that 
dungeon, because he loved Jesus Christ, 
and believed in Him, and would speak 
about Him among people who hated Him ; 
and so their wicked king had laid hold on 
him, and cast him into this dungeon, and 
was about to put him to death the very 
next day. He seemed now given over, for 
no one else was to be seen in that dun- 
geon, but the poor man in chains, and the 
fierce soldiers to whom he was bound. 
But there was another there f there was 
one who watched over him ; who kept him 
from all harm ; who gave him that sweet 
sleep ; who heard when he prayed, and 
was ever ready to help him, — Jesus Christ 
was there. 

There was in that town another room, 
not a very large one, and yet there were 



28 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 

many persons in it. It was now late at 
night, but still they stayed there. There 
were some men and some women, — what 
are they doing ? They are praying to 
God, calling on the name of Jesus Christ, 
begging Him to save his servant Peter, and 
not to let him, like St. James, be put to 
death by Herod. They prayed very ear- 
nestly, and no doubt their prayers were 
heard. Perhaps it is as an answer to 
their prayers, that the chained prisoner 
sleeps so peacefully ; for he looks as if 
some happy vision or dream came to him 
as he slept. Perhaps he is dreaming of 
the time when he was a boy, and went 
with his father upon the lake of Genne- 
seret as a fisherman. 

Perhaps he dreams of the first time he 
went ; how pleased he was to go ; how 
the bright moon shone, and the little 
waves rippled round the boat, as it shot 
with its dark shadow through the moon- 
light, and left a troubled path on the 



THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 20 

waters where it had passed. Is that his 
father's voice calling him ? Is that the 
moonlight round him ? See, he starts in 
his sleep and opens his eyes ; he looks 
like a man who hardly knows whether he 
is well awake, or still in a dream. What is 
the light around him ? there was never 
moonlight in the dungeon, and he is 
there, and not by the sea of Galilee. And 
what is this light, brighter, and yet softer 
far than any moonlight. It is so clear, 
that he can see every corner of the dun- 
geon, and yet so mild that it does not 
dazzle his eyes, which had been so long 
in the darkness ? And what is that voice 
which says to him, " Arise up, quickly," 
as kind as his father's in his dream, and 
yet a real sounding voice. The soldiers 
too beside him, why do they sleep on ? 
He looks up, and he sees a form he knows 
not. Is it one of God's angels ? the light 
seems to beam from him : either he must 
be a holy angel, or all this is a beautiful 
d 3 



80 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 

dream. But he does as the voice bids 
him ; he rises up, and the chains fall off 
from his hands ; they clanked and rung 
as they fell upon the ground, but the 
soldiers did not stir : the hands of one of 
them was upon the hilt of his sword ; in 
a moment surely it would be drawn, and 
Peter slain : but no, the fierce man slept 
on, and Peter bound on his sandals, and 
followed the angel. He passed the first 
gate, for it opened for them; the keepers 
lay around it, but no man stirred, and it 
shut again behind them. They came to 
the second ; it too is left behind. Surely 
it must be a dream. But now they stand 
before the iron gate ; its heavy weight 
hangs always stiffly on its rusty hinges, 
and many men can only just slowly and 
scarcely force it open with a great creaking 
and noise. It too opens of its own accord, 
and they pass through it into the open 
air. It was a very pleasant feeling ; that 
first breath of the open summer night- 



THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 31 

breeze upon Peter's forehead, which had 
grown damp and cold in the dark wet 
dungeon. Surely it must be more than a 
dream. He looked round for the angel 
who brought him forth, but he was gone. 
Gone as he came, unseen and unknown 
by man, save when God would have him 
seen. Perhaps he stood near him still, 
though he could be seen no longer. Peter 
stands doubtful for a moment. Then all 
the truth comes surely on his mind, and 
he knew that " the Lord had sent his 
angel, and delivered him out of the hands 
of Herod, and from all the expectation of 
the people of the Jews." And he w r ent to 
that room where the servants of the Lord 
were together praying, and they would 
scarcely believe when they heard that 
Peter was there. But he went in and 
told them what great things the Lord had 
done for him ; and he and they feared 
the Lord together, and trusted in him 
more and more. 



IV. 

THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 

There was once a Father who had two 
children whom he loved exceedingly. 
They were a little girl and. boy, and they 
were good and obedient children. For 
many years, ever since they were born, 
they had lived in the middle of a great 
town, and had never seen the open fields 
and the beautiful flowers, and birds, and 
woods, except sometimes when their father 
took them out in a carriage with him for 
an hour or two ; and those were happy 
times. One day when the little girl was 
seven, and the boy nine years old, their 
father called them to him, and said to 



THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 33 

fchem, My dear children, I am going- to 
take you away from this house in which 
you have been used to live, and to take 
you into another house where you will 
have a beautiful garden, in which you can 
play about amongst the flowers, and hear 
the birds sing all day long, and see the 
bright butterflies which you have seen 
when I have taken you out in the car- 
riage. 

Child. How pleased the little boy and 
girl must have been to go to such a beau- 
tiful house, from the midst of the dark 
town where they had lived before. 

F. Yes, they were greatly pleased ; and 
when the next day they came to this new 
house, and looked out of its windows, and 
saw the green grass looking fresh and 
bright, and gay butterflies flying over it 
up and down, and the painted feathers of 
all sorts of birds which flew in and out of 
the bushes, or stayed to warble in the 
thickets : they longed to run straight out 



o4- THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 

of doors and sing too, they were so happy ; 
and thought that they should never tire of 
gathering the flowers, and playing with the 
bright yellow gourds which they could see 
growing here and there in the beds, and 
watching the birds and butterflies. But 
just as they were running out, their father 
called them to him with a very grave face, 
so grave as to be almost sad, and said to 
them, My dearest children, before you go 
into that beautiful garden, listen well to 
what I am going to tell you. In that gar- 
den there is a fierce and hungry lion, who 
is always walking up and down it, to find 
some one to devour. There are reasons 
which you cannot understand, why I can- 
not turn this lion out ; and why, much as 
I love you, I have yet brought you to live 
in this garden, near such a savage beast ; 
but if you will remember my words, he 
can never hurt you. What you must do 
is this ; keep in mind that he is ever near 
you ; that he is waiting to spring on you, 




THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 



THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 35 

and when the sun is the brightest, and the 
birds the gayest, and all is most beautiful 
around you, and you are the happiest 
yourselves, then think that he is near you, 
and watch carefully, lest he should spring 
on you unseen : for if, when you see him, 
you call on me to help you, you will find 
me always near you, and he will fly away 
from you. Do not stay to think how T I 
can hear you when you do not see me, 
but call at once on me, and I shall be 
always by your side, and you will be safe. 
But if in your play you cease to watch for 
the lion, and so are not ready to call on 
me, he will creep close to you when you 
least expect it, and spring on you and 
devour you. 

The children looked very grave and 
thoughtful ; each took the other's hand, 
and they walked quite sadly down 
into the garden ; trembling and afraid, as 
though thinking that at every turn the 
great lion would spring out upon them. 



36 THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 

But they saw nothing of him ; and as the 
birds hopped round them, tod the gay 
butterflies floated up and down in the air, 
and the sun sparkled in the stream that 
ran amongst the flowers, they began to 
forget that there was such a thing as a lion 
in the world ; and soon they were playing 
and laughing as merrily and loud as if 
they had never heard that he was near 
them. But just when they were the 
gayest, they heard their father's voice, 
saying, sadly and seriously, * Remember ! * 
They started and looked round, but they 
could not see him: the voice seemed to 
come from the air ; but the little girj 
thought directly of the lion ; and as she 
looked into the bushes, which were quite 
white with their bright blossoms, she saw 
something creeping softly towards her; and 
in a moment her eyes were fixed on the 
fierce fiery eyes of the savage lion. She 
had hardly breath left to call upon her 
father, but at the first call he stood by 



THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 37 

her side ; and she could see the lion turn 
from her, and spring away and hide him- 
self in the thicket. Her father took her 
in his arms, and told her not to fear, for 
that she was quite safe in his keeping ; 
and he bid her remember, that if she had 
not watched, and seen the lion, and called 
on His name, the evil beast would have 
sprung upon her, and she would have been 
his prey. 

Day after day passed away, and the 
children became more and more watchful, 
and even in their sport and play, they 
were sober and mindful of the lion ; and 
when he was stealing near to them, they 
called always on their father, and he ever 
stood beside them, and saved them from 
his fangs. 

Now do you remember any thing like 
this in the Bible ? 

Yes, I remember the text which says, 
" Be sober, be vigilant, because your 
adversary the devil goeth about as a roar- 



38 THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 

ing Hon, seeking whom he may devour. " 
I suppose that he is the lion. 

F. Yes, my dear children, he is ; and 
who is the kind father who is ever near to 
hear when they call ? 

C. Is not that God, whom we are taught 
to call our heavenly Father ? 

F. Yes, it is God, and Jesus Christ oui 
Saviour, who are ever near those whc 
trust in them, and who will hear as sooi 
as ever they call, and who will help anc 
deliver them from the devil and his snares, 

So that you see, my dear children, hov> 
you must watch ; if you would be kepi 
safe from this great enemy. You must 
" watch and pray :" watch that you may 
pray, and pray that you may be safe. 



V. 



THE STORM AT SEA. 

A large ship lay near the shore ; 
she was waiting for the wind ; for all 
her cargo was on board. The sea, which 
had been long as calm as a great looking- 
glass, began to be ruffled over here and 
there as the flaws of wind fell upon it, 
and little waves began to rise upon it, 
looking very bright where the sun fell 
upon their sparkling tops, and quite black 
and dark where they curled away from his 
shining ; and as they followed one another 
on to the pier, they broke against and 
ran up it, throwing up a little salt spray, 
through which the sun shone in many 
colours like a rainbow. 



40 THE STORM AT SEA. 

When the wind beg?n to rise, every 
one was busy on board the ship. The 
sailors were running about, pulling the 
ropes, and shaking out the sails, and 
drawing up the anchor ; and the captain 
was walking here and there, and seeming 
to think that they could never work hard 
enough, or get the ship quick enough 
ready to sail out to sea whilst the plea- 
sant breeze lasted. However, the sailors 
laboured, and all was just ready, when a 
man came down to the sea-shore and 
jumped into a boat which lay there, and 
called to the sailors near to row him out to 
the ship, before she should sail away. He 
had but just time to reach her : he got 
along-side just as she began to cut the 
water with her keel, and he begged the 
captain to take him on board, and he 
would pay for his passage. After a few 
words it was settled between them ; the 
boat pulled back to the shore, and the 
stranger was standing on the deck of the 



THE STORM AT SEA. 41 

vessel, watching the windows and the 
people and the houses, as they grew less 
and less every moment, until they could 
scarcely be seen the one from the other. 

There were many things to do as the 
ship sailed on, and the captain and the 
sailors had not much time to look about 
them, or they would have wondered whom 
they had got on board. He was dressed 
in rough hairy clothes, and did not look 
like a merchant, or a sailor, or a soldier. 
He did not seem a rich or great man ; 
and yet if you looked near into his face, 
there was something in it which made you 
look again and again. He seemed very 
full of thoughts ; and these many thoughts 
had made many deep furrows in his face, 
and when he was pleased, as he was when 
he found that he had caught the ship, 
his face was lighted up with a very great 
joyfulness. But altogether he seemed 
very sad now. He hardly spoke to any 
one, and he looked often out into the air 
e 3 



42 THE STORM AT SEA. 

and the sky, as if he saw strange things 
there, which were seen by no one beside. 
When any one spoke suddenly near him, 
he gave a great start, and seemed half ready 
to answer, as if he were expecting some 
one to call him. However, he was not 
much noticed, for every one was busy 
except himself, and had little time for 
looking at him. The sailors indeed would 
shrug their shoulders sometimes, and 
whisper to one another when he was 
amongst them : but for the most part he 
went on his way, and they on theirs, and 
they said little to each other. 

For the first day, the breeze favoured 
them, and they were getting well on with 
their voyage. The sun rose clear the 
next dayj and the pleasant breeze held 
up. The anxious face of the captain 
grew smoother, and he had a friendly 
word for the sailors when they came near 
him. Every one was busy in their work. 
You might see him walking as sailors do, 



THE STORM AT SEA. 48 

up and down the deck, talking to the 
chief of his crew under him. Perhaps 
they were talking about the cargo he had 
got on board ; and what would be the 
state of the market at Tarshish, and how 
much he should make by the wheat and 
the fine cloth he had got on board ; 
and whether he should find plenty of 
" gold and silver, and ivory and apes/' 
(1 Kings x. 22.) at Tarshish, which he 
could bring back again in his ship to 
Joppa. Perhaps they talked about the 
strange man who had come on board, and 
what could be his business. s He paid 
his fare, but he does not seem like a 
merchant ; and he eats little and speaks 
to no one ; and all last night the sailors 
say he never slept, but seemed like a man 
in whom some spirit dwelt. 5 So perhaps 
they talked, as the ship cut gaily through 
the waters, bounding like a spirited horse 
over the tossing waves. 

But when the sun was past the middle 



44 THE STORM AT SEA. 

of the sky, and he began to sink towards 
the sea, a belt of thick clouds might be 
seen stretching along to the eastward. If 
a man watched them closely, he might 
see that they were creeping up the sky. 
You might see that they would soon be up 
with you, — those sky -travellers. And so 
they were ; another hour spread them all 
over the heaven, and now the sun was 
getting near the sea; and the light was 
growing dim and grey. 

6 "We shall have but an ugly night of 
it, from the look of the sea and sky/ 
was the captain's judgment, and nobody 
thought him wrong. Already the wind 
was sighing over the sea, and whistling 
among the cords ; and hark ! what crack 
of the sail was that : ' we shall not long 
be able to carry any sail at all.' They 
were right ; the wind grew into a storm : 
the storm grew into a hurricane : it was 
a fearful night : black and rough and roar- 
ing was the sea, and the poor ship strained 



THE STORM AT SEA. 45 

and tossed as she drove along before the 
wind like a bubble on the wave-top. At 
last the grey light of the morning began to 
give a leaden colour to the sky and the waves, 
but no help came with it. The wind only 
got higher and higher, and the waves tossed 
more and more fearfully, till they thought 
the ship would be broken by their force. 

Then the captain bid the sailors bring 
up the costly merchandise of which he 
had hoped to make so good a sale, and 
threw it into the sea to lighten the ship, 
for ( we had better lose it,' he said, ' than 
be all sunk together.' So they brought 
it up, beautiful ears of wheat from Judaea, 
and bales of fine cloth of blue from Tyre, 
and they threw them into the sea, and the 
wild waves tossed them up as if they were 
playing with them, and then yawned, 
opened, and sucked them in, and they 
saw them no more. But still the storm 
did not abate, and they thought that soon 
the ship must go to pieces. 



46 THE STORM AT SEA. 

Now the captain and his men were 
heathen people, and did not know the 
true God : so they said in their heathen 
way, that they wondered which of the 
gods had sent this storm ; for they thought 
that there were many gods : and they began 
to pray every man to the god whom they 
most fancied. Then said one of the 
sailors, ( Where is the strange passenger in 
the rough garments, and why is not he 
praying with us ? ' So they sought for 
him, and they found him down below fast 
asleep ; so worn out by watching, that he 
had fallen asleep at last, and slept all 
through that fierce night-storm which had 
kept all the rest so busy and so full of 
fear. 

It was a strange sight to see how the 
man awoke : how he started and looked 
around him, and seemed more moved than 
any, as soon as he was woke from that 
sound sleep. Then they all prayed unto 
their gods, and the stranger prayed by 



THE STORM AT SEA. 4 i 

himself. No one heard his prayers, but 
it seemed that he was very earnest. Yet 
still the storm ceased not, but it tossed 
and roared worse and worse. 

The captain's voice w r as then heard, 
and he said, " We must cast lots and see 
for whose sake this dreadful storm has 
come upon us." So they made lots, and 
began to cast them as best they could, in 
such a troubled state. And now all men 
marked the stranger, for his knees smote 
together, and his face was pale, and his 
eyes were fixed in the air, as if there sat 
always before them some terrible thing 
which no one else beheld. Soon the lots 
were given out, and the strange man was 
taken. Then said the captain to him, 
" Tell us who thou art, from what coun- 
try, and of w'hat business, and what doing of 
thine has brought this trouble upon us ?" 

Then was it wonderful to look upon 
that man, for he who had been so terri- 
fied, and like a man haunted by fearful 



48 THE STORM AT SEA. 

sights, became all at once quite calm, 
and he said in a deep strong voice which 
all the people could hear even over the 
roaring of the sea, " I am an Hebrew, 
and I serve the God of heaven, which hath 
made the sea and the dry land." Then 
he told them too why he had come with 
them, that he was a prophet of this true 
and only God ; and that God had sent 
him on a work which he was not willing 
to do ; and that he had been so mad as 
to think that he could fly from God, by 
crossing over the sea ; but that he had 
found he never could fly from God : that 
in the calm, God had been with him, by 
night in the ship's sides; by day on the 
deep. When the sun rose red in the 
morning, when it burned bright at noon, 
when it set in the sullen sea at night ; 
ever God was with him, and he could not 
fly from His presence, and now that He 
had sent this storm, he doubted not, as 
His messenger of wrath. 



THE STORM AT SEA. 49 

Then the men looked at him with fear : 
and they asked him how he could have 
brought this trouble on them by his sin, 
and what they were to do with him. 

Then he spoke again as calmly and as 
quietly as before, and he told them to 
take him up and cast him into the boiling 
sea. The sailors looked at him and 
trembled ; and they did not dare to do it ; 
so they rowed with great oars, and tried to 
guide and save the ship ; but it could not 
be. The waves only grew larger and 
larger, and the wind higher and higher ; 
and still the strange prophet said to them, 
" If you would have the sea become calm, 
cast me into its floods." Then at last the 
men thought they must do according to 
his worde So they prayed to God not to 
hold them guilty of this stranger's blood, 
if according to his own command they cast 
him forth into the sea. 

Then they laid hold on him. It was 
strange to see him, who while he was 

F 



50 THE STORM AT SEA. 

flying from God was frighted at the very 
air, and started at every sound ; now calm, 
and quiet, and fearless, though he was 
about to be cast into that terrible boiling 
sea. But now he was not afraid, because 
he dared look up again to his God. 

So they cast him into the sea, and its 
great waves closed over him, and they saw 
him no more ; and the sea became calm, 
and the vessel righted and went on her 
way peacefully. 

But God had prepared a great fish 
which swam under those fearful waves, 
and when the prophet sunk under the 
waters, the fish swallowed him down. 
There was the prophet alive within the 
fish, who dived down to the bottom of the 
great sea and swam through all its storms, 
diving down lower than the roots of the 
mountains, amongst thick forests of sea- 
weeds, green, and red, and blue, which 
man's eyes never saw or shall see. 

Then the prophet prayed unto his God. 



THE STORM AT SEA. 51 

It was a strange place for prayer to come 
from ; but faithful prayer can pass to God 
from any where ; and from the fi sh's belly 
at the bottom of the deep sea, Jonah's 
prayer rose up to God on high. Then 
God commanded the fish, and he swam 
towards the shore of Jonah's country, and 
cast Jonah upon the shore. Strange and 
wonderful must have been his feelings 
w T hen he stood once more upon the land ; 
felt it firm under his feet, and looked out 
upon trees, and rocks, and houses, and 
faces which he had known before ; for he 
was like a man who had come back to them 
from the grave and death. But one lesson 
surely he had learned, and that was, that 
man could not fly from God ; for that 
earth, and sea, and air were full of Him, 
and did His bidding alway. 



VI. 

THE TWO ROADS. A DREAM. 

I had been reading in the New Testa- 
ment before I fell asleep, and the words 
I had read came back again to me in a 
dream. 

I thought I stood upon the edge 
of a wide common, and that from every 
side people were crossing the common by 
many different paths, to a place where 
they all met just by my right hand. There 
were already a great number of people 
there when I first looked, and more and 
.more kept coming there continually. 
They were of all sorts and ages, rich and 
poor, young and old, sickly and strong ; 



THE TWO ROADS. 53 

and I wondered in my dream, what it was 
that brought them all together. 

Then I thought that I walked into the 
middle of the crowd, to see what they 
were about, and then I soon found what 
they were doing. I found that all the 
paths in which they had been walking, 
ended here in two different gates, and 
they were all doubting into which of these 
two gates they should enter ; — so I looked 
at the gates with the rest, and cast my 
eyes down the paths which lay beyond 
them. 

A great many people were going in at 
the first gate at which I looked, and I 
could not wonder that they were. It 
stood wide open, and seemed to bid all 
who chose to pass through it. And then 
the path upon which it opened looked as 
gay and pleasant as a path could look. 
There was a bright gravel walk for those 
who liked it, running between beds of 
beautiful flowers ; and a little on one side 
f 3 



54 THE TWO ROADS. 

there was a smooth grass walk which ran 
amongst fine spreading trees, from whose 
green branches I thought every bird of the 
air was singing. There were benches 
placed here and there under those trees, 
where every one could sit when he was 
tired, and rich ripe fruits seemed to grow 
close by for them to eat, and cool streams 
of water ran sparkling by, so that no one 
need be thirsty who could stoop down and 
drink. Then every one at first sight looked 
so cheerful and happy along the way. There 
were men and women singing and danc- 
ing, and there were children gathering 
flowers, and bright birds with silver fea- 
thers and golden eyes flew round and 
round ; and the trees were all in flower, 
so that the air was quite scented with 
their smell, and bees hummed amongst 
the flowers, and the sun shone, and the 
rivulets danced, and all seemed alive and 
happy. I could not wonder for a moment 
that so many turned down this way. 



THE TWO ROADS. 55 

Then I looked at the other gate, it was 
as narrow as the other was wide. It seemed 
indeed hardly wide enough to let any one 
pass, and so many found it. For I saw 
several who walked boldly up to it, and 
began to push in at it, but it caught the 
clothes of one, and the flesh of another, 
and the bundle of a third, and they could 
not get through. I saw too, sometimes a 
mother with a child in her arms, and it 
seemed she could not get through because 
of this child ; and sometimes a father 
would hold a son's hand so fast, that neither 
could get in. What made this the stranger, 
was, that in spite of its narrowness, every 
. one was able to push in, who tried with 
all their might. There were some very 
large people who pressed in, whilst others 
who were only half their size were kept 
out. Sometimes a mother, after much 
study, would be willing to let go her 
child, rather than be kept without, and 
then it seemed to widen for them both, 



56 THE TWO ROADS. 

and they got in together. Tn a word it 
seemed wide enough to let the largest in 
with a struggle, and too narrow to let any 
in without ; though children got in the 
easiest, and those who had fewest things 
to carry with them. Few bundles indeed 
were got in at all. 

Nor were the troubles over when they 
had got by : the path was almost as narrow 
as the gate. 

Instead of the smooth walks, and gay 
flowers, and bright sunshine of the other 
road, here the way was rough, and the 
tearing thorns grew very close to each side 
of the path ; and there were many places 
in which it seemed to get altogether dark, 
so that no one would be able to keep clear 
of the thorns on one side or the other. 

When I saw all this, I wondered that 
any should try to enter into it, instead of 
all hurrying together down the gay and 
easy road. 

But as I cast up my eyes, in my sur- 



THE TWO ROADS. 57 

prise I saw that there was a motto writ- 
ten over each, and I hastened to read 
them. That over the gate I was looking 
at, said thus : — 

The narrow gate and thorny way, 
Leads pilgrims to eternal day. 

and then casting my eyes upon the other, 

I read — 

This flowery way which men desire, 
Must end in everlasting fire. 

Now when I had read these two mot- 
tos, as I knew that the King who had 
put them up was truth itself, I began to 
wonder how any could dare to go along 
the broad and easy way, though it did 
look so tempting ; and I stopped to watch 
how it was that any dared to do so. 

The first I saw was a fine high-spirited 
young lad ; who, when I first looked at 
him, was still holding his father's hand. 
The old man looked somewhat sad, 
and I could see that he was struggling 



58 THE TWO ROADS. 

hard to get himself and his son up to the 
narrow gate. Just then there came by a 
party of merry young people, and they 
stretched out their gay hands to the poor 
boy, and looked into his face with their 
laughing eyes, and he slipped away from 
his father, and made with them towards 
the broad way. Just before he turned in, 
he looked round and said to his father, ' I 
shall only go a little way with them, just 
to see what it is like, and then I shall 
turn back and follow you :' and then he 
passed into the green walk, and I could 
see him for a long way laughing and 
merry, but he never seemed to turn round 
again, and I never saw him come back. 

And as I looked, I saw many more 
turning in the same way ; some because 
they could not get a bag of money through 
the narrow way, and could not bear to 
leave it; some because they were afraid 
of tearing their fine clothes in squeezing 
through ; some because it looked so dreary 



THE TWO ROADS. 59 

all down the narrow way ; and they 
longed to gather the flowers and the fruits 
with which the broad way was full : some 
from mere thoughtlessness, and some be- 
cause those who were round them, began 
to jeer at them as soon as they turned 
their eyes towards the narrow gate. Some 
too I saw, who went in at the broad gate, 
because after walking a little way in the 
narrow road, they had got torn by the 
thorns which grew beside it. These 
seemed the saddest of any : but they were 
always persuading every one to go in at 
the wide gate. c Trust us,' they would 
say, showing the scratches upon their 
hands and cheeks, ' trust us and be warned, 
for the path gets narrower and narrower, 
and darker and darker, and if you are fools 
enough to enter, you will soon wish your- 
selves out as we did.' 

Now hearing this said by one and an- 
other, made me look a little closer at this 
narrow way. Then I saw that those who 



60 



THE TWO ROADS. 



set out on it, found mostly a few paces of 
easy walking just when they had squeezed 
through, and then that the path did get 
very narrow. 

I heard one and another groan when 
the thorns tore his flesh, and there was 
hardly any one whom they did not tear 
sometimes. Those who got in young, as 
they passed the most easily through the 
gate, so they seemed to be getting on the 
best now they were in, and generally I 
could see that they who pressed on most 
earnestly found the way the easiest, and 
got the fewest rubs. But if any one began 
to loiter or to look back, he was in the 
thorns in a moment : and once in, no one 
could tell when they would get clear ; for 
first they were torn on this side, and then 
on that ; and even when they did get clear, 
they always seemed to enter on one of those 
dark places of the road through which they 
went sighing, and groaning, and stumb- 
ling, like men in a sore trouble and distress. 



'THE TWO ROADS. 61 

Many were so frightened by all this, 
that they turned straight back, and fled 
towards the narrow wicket, which then 
opened wide, and led them out too easily. 

Now I had a great curiosity to see how 
these roads went on : and as I watched 
the walkers in the narrow road, I saw first 
that those who got on quickly, were often 
looking down to a book which they held 
in their hands, and then again looking up, 
as if to the heaven over their head. When 
first I saw one of them look down, I 
thought he would surely miss the track, 
and be in a moment in the thorns : but in- 
stead of this, it seemed as if he thus kept on 
straighter and quicker than ever. While I 
was musing upon this, I heard one of 
them read out of his book, " Thy word is 
a light unto my feet, and a lamp unto my 
paths." And another seemed to answer 
him at the moment by reading out — 
" Through thy commandments I get under- 
standing, therefore I hate every evil way." 

G 



62 THE TWO ROADS. 

I saw too that instead of the way getting 
narrower, and more rough and thorny, it 
grew always easier, and smoother, and 
broader. To those who had come in 
young, it was very soon plain and plea- 
sant ; and though to the others it was 
longer rough, and they came here and 
there to a fresh set of thorns, yet it was 
plain that they got along much more 
easily than they had done. Some who 
had been always in the thorns on the one 
side or the other, were now walking stea- 
dily along : and some seemed almost fly- 
ing, they moved so quickly by, and so 
easily. Flowers too began to blossom 
round them : the thorns turned often into 
sweet bunches of roses and woodbine : 
clusters, too, of ripe grapes, of which they 
eat just enough to refresh their lips, hung 
here and there in their way: and the birds 
began to sing sweetly to them. 

No one now talked of turning back, but 
busy as they seemed in pressing on, I 



THE TWO ROADS. 63 

thought they looked already happy : 
some indeed were joyous, and all were 
cheerful; and I overheard one and an- 
other sing cheerily, " Her ways are ways 
of pleasantness, and all her paths are 
peace." 

And now I could see but a little way 
before them, a bright and cheerful light 
which shone upon their road. As one 
and another entered into it, I lost sight 
of them : but I could hear by their last 
words which reached me, that they were 
then happier than ever. Some were sing- 
ing holy songs, as if to the sound of harps 
and music of all kinds : some were nearly 
silent, but the little they did sing came 
from hearts full of joy ; and I doubted 
not that what I could not see beyond, was 
even happier and better than that I had 
seen. 

I could scarcely bear to turn away my 
eyes from these happy people, to look 
at those who had chosen the other path : 



64 THE TWO ROADS. 

and when I did so I was soon full of 
sorrow. For when I came to look more 
closely, I saw that even at the first, where 
they looked the merriest, there was hardly 
one amongst them who was thoroughly 
happy. The mirth, too, which they had, 
died away as they went further. If one 
stooped to gather the fruit or the flowers, 
they faded away as soon as he had them 
in his hand, or turned into dust and ashes 
as soon as they reached his lips. The 
saddest of all were those who had once 
set out along the other road ; they were 
ever turning round as if something 
affrighted them, or else pushing on madly 
as if they were running away from thought ; 
and I could see, on looking closely, that 
the thorns still stuck in them and festered, 
and pricked them afresh at almost every 
turn. But though these were the sad- 
dest, yet as they went on, all grew sad. 
Gloom and darkness came over those 
faces which had been the merriest. They 



THE TWO ROADS. 65 

were also ever falling out with one an- 
other, and so making matters worse. 

When I saw them all so sad, I wondered 
that none thought of turning back and 
trying the other road. I soon found out a 
cause for this : for just as I was looking, I 
saw one try to turn ; and lo, though he had 
been walking well and easily the other 
way, now I saw that he could scarcely 
stand. His feet slipped, his knees trem- 
bled, and he seemed all at once as weak 
as a young child : soon he slipped quite 
down ; and as he lay bruised and groaning 
on the ground, those around him mocked 
and jeered at him ! and I thought he would 
have risen no more — when, lifting his eyes 
up to heaven, he seemed to call for help, and 
then just scrambling up on his hands and 
knees, he got a few steps further, only to 
fall again, and groan again for help. At 
last however his feet steadied, and I saw 
him after many hard struggles reach the 
gate and push through it in spite of the 
g 3 



66 THE TWO ROADS. 

crowd of people, who were thronging in and 
would scarce let him pass ; and he fled to 
the narrow gate and pressed through it, 
and went on along the path, though its 
thorns seemed to tear him at every step, 
and the way was darker than I had ever 
seen it yet ; but still he pressed on like a 
man flying for his life ; and I never took 
my eyes off him till at last he got into the 
easier and lightsome stage of his new 
journey. 

But for the rest who did not turn, it 
was a heart-breaking thing to look at 
them. For sooner or later they all got 
into a thick black darkness, which was 
now spread all over what had once been 
their gay and cheerful road; and then I 
could see that they were parted from their 
friends, though they were most afraid of 
being alone ; and then I knew that some 
worse thing befel them ; for though I saw 
them not, I heard their cries and screams. 
They were exceeding loud and bitter, but 



THE TWO ROADS. b< 

they brought them no help, for they cried 
when there was none to hear ; but they 
were so loud and bitter that I thought I 
could not bear to hear them ; and so in my 
trouble I woke, and behold it was a dream. 

1. What text does this dream bring 
into your mind ? 

" Enter ye in at the strait gate : for wide 
is the gate and broad is the way that leacl- 
eth to destruction, and many there be 
which go in thereat. Because strait is the 
gate and narrow is the way that leadeth 
unto life : and few there be that find it." 
Matt. vii. 13, 14. 

2. What makes the way so narrow to 
us? 

Our sins, which we must deny and fight 
against. 

3. What are the thorns along the way ? 
The trials and difficulties of living as a 

Christian. 

4. To whom is the way easiest ? 



68 THE TWO ROADS. 

To those who enter on it in youth and 
childhood. 

5. What does it get to those who go on 
in it? 

Easy and pleasant. 

" Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
and all her paths are peace." Prov. iii. 17. 

6. What does it end in ? 
Everlasting joys. 

7. What are the flowers along the broad 
way? 

" The pleasures of sin." 

8. Why do they fade ? 

Because they are but " for a season." 
Heb. x. 25. 

9. What are the thorns which fester and 
prick those who have left the narrow way ? 

The reproofs of conscience. 

10. What is the joy of sinners like ? 

" The crackling of thorns under the pot. " 
Eccles. vii. 6. 

1 1 . What is the end of the broad way ? 
Everlasting burnings. 



VIL 

THE SPRING MORNING. 

In a fresh and beautiful garden, full of 
every gay and sweet-smelling flower, I saw 
a merry party happily at play. Four boys 
made up the group : they were all of 
nearly the same size and age ; and their 
light hearts laughed in their glad eyes, as 
they ran here and there in their sports 
and frolics. The very birds in the trees 
over them scarcely seemed happier than 
they — now chasing one another amongst 
the shrubs — now following some gay 
butterfly which floated by them on its 
blue and golden wings — now sitting by a 
murmuring stream which ran through the 
bottom of the garden, or refreshing them- 



70 THE SPRING MORNING. 

selves with the wood strawberries, whose 
ripe red berries shone upon its banks. 

Whilst I was watching their sports, 
delighted with their gaiety, I saw the 
figure of a man coming to them from 
amongst the trees which bordered the 
garden. He went and sat down in the 
shade, called the boys round him, and 
began to speak to them. There was some- 
thing most kind and tender in this man's 
face and voice, grave though it was ; and as 
he spoke I could see that one or two of 
the boys looked very steadily at him, as if 
they wanted to catch every word that he 
said. None of them seemed careless, but 
one looked as if his spirit would come out 
through his eyes, so did he fix them on 
that grave kind face. 

Then I thought that I drew near to the 
group ; for they were not disturbed by my 
coming, and I listened to the words which 
were spoken to the boys. 

1 This,' I heard the man saying as I 



THE SPRING MORNING. 71 

came near, e This is the garden I have 
told you of. It is, as you see, a very gay 
pretty place, and one that you boys can 
be very happy in for a few hours' play. 
But it is not a place that you can stay in. 
All its pleasant sights would soon turn 
into terrors. The flowers would wither 
round you : one by one the birds would 
cease to sing. Your happy spirits would 
go — you would try to keep up your play, 
but it would grow into a business — all the 
sweet fruits would become bitter to your 
taste — the water of the stream would lose 
its freshness — you would alter too — and 
then, as you lost your pleasure in play, you 
would begin to teaze one another and be 
unhappy : and then, worst of all, when the 
sun began to set, you would hear the 
roaring of many wild beasts all around 
you; as it grew darker you would see 
their fierce eyes glaring out of the bushes, 
from which now the sweet birds sing to 
you ; and whilst you were trembling with 



72 THE SPRING MORNING. 

fear some of them would spring upon you 
and devour you. 

' So that though this is a beautiful gar- 
den for an hour's play in the morning, it 
is not your home, and you must not try 
to make it so. Your home, as I have told 
you, is not very far before you. Between 
this garden and it there lies a waste and 
dreary-looking space ; with some steep 
hills to climb ; some hot places to pass ; 
some slippery ways to walk over ; but 
there is nothing to harm you if you will 
follow my directions, I have myself passed 
over it, and you may trace my footmarks 
all along the way, — the deepest always and 
the plainest where there is any trouble or 
danger : and when you have passed this 
plain and reached your home, then you 
may indeed be happy. For there are gar- 
dens sweeter far than this : there the birds 
make a never-ceasing music : there dark- 
ness never puts out the light ; there are 
no evil beasts to harm you : there' none 




THE SPPJNG MOBBING. 



THE SPRING MORNING. 73 

are ever tired : but you shall be always 
happy ; for all that are there love one 
another, and have all given to them that 
their hearts can desire.' 

Then I saw that the eyes of the little 
boy who was listening so eagerly, sparkled 
brighter than ever, and a sweet smile 
came over his countenance, as he thought 
of that happy place. Then a happy 
grave look followed the smile, and I 
heard him say to the man, as tears 
filled his eyes, ' And shall I see in that 
beautiful garden, my father, and my mo- 
ther, and my sister, who are gone before 
me V c Yes,' said the man, looking kindly 
into the child's face, ' if you reach that gar- 
den safely, there you will see them again, 
and nothing can ever part you more.' 

' But now,' he went on, ' hear how you 
are to reach it : First, take care and lose 
no time in setting out for it. Though 
this garden is beautiful and sweet, and the 
way you have to go is barren and steep ; 

H 



74 THE SPRING MORNING. 

yet do not stay here ; but set out at once. 
It is much easier to pass that road in the 
early morning. Even if you wait to the 
middle of the day it will grow harder, for 
then the sun w T ill be hot, and the fresh 
dew will have dried off the green grass, 
and the hills will seem steeper to climb, 
and then perhaps you will grow weary, and 
halt till evening, and then it is dangerous; 
and the storms may gather, and the brooks 
you have to cross may swell ; and if night 
should overtake you, you are lost. Then 
you would surely lose the foot-track, and 
either the miry places would swallow you 
up, or the fierce beasts that haunt that 
country would break out upon you, and 
you would certainly be devoured by some 
of them. 

1 This, then, is my first direction-^Set 
out at once, for the road is surest and 
safest in the morning ; and for the next, 
here are two gifts to help you on your 
journey. Here is a reed-flute; it is a 



THE SPRING MGI1NING. <0 

small thing to look at, but do not despise 
it, for it will be a great help to you. If 
you see any of the wild beasts of the 
plain prowling about, and sometimes 
they will venture out even in the day, 
play a few notes upon it, and they will 
surely leave you ; or if you doubt about 
your way, play upon it, and the foot-track 
will come out again clear before your eyes ; 
or if you are so weary that you are ready 
to forget the beautiful garden and rest at 
the end, play upon this, and the thought 
of the end will come fresh again upon 
your mind, and make you able to bear the 
toil.' So he gave each one of them a 
little reed-flute, which he called " Prayer," 
and showed them how to play upon it. 
Now they were common-looking flutes, 
but when they were touched by the 
breath, me thought the music they sent 
forth was most sweet and piercing. "When 
the little Agape especially (for that was 
the name of the boy who had asked whether 



76 THE SPRING MORNING. 

he should see his father and his mother in 
the garden) when Agape put his to his 
lips, it sent out notes sweeter than the 
nightingale's. Then the man gave them 
each a small bottle full of what looked 
like the clearest water, and he said, ' If 
you are at any time greatly weary with 
the way, take out this bottle and drink a 
few drops of its living water, and you will 
again be fresh and hearty. And now,' 
he said, ' farewell : I shall meet again in 
the happy garden all those who get there 
safely ;' and so saying, he rose up, and 
walked slowly away from them until he 
was lost among the shadows of the trees 
from which he had come out. 

Then I saw the little boys sit still for 
a while, as if they were thinking over the 
words that he had spoken : their echo 
seemed still to be speaking to them in the 
silence, and no one liked to be the first 
to disturb it. At last one of them, named 
Edone, began : - Well, what do you 



THE SPRING MORNING. < t 

say ? of course we must all get away 
from this place before long, but I should 
like to have a little more play in it first.' 

6 So should ly said Argia, ( and to sit 
a little longer on this hill, and eat a few 
more of these refreshing strawberries be- 
fore we set out on the long tiring journey. 
"What say you, Astathes V 

( I hardly know what to say ; you see 
we were so much advised to set out 
directly.* ( Yes,' added Edone ; ' I do 
not mean to be late, but there can be no 
use in being in such a great hurry. It is 
quite morning now; if we were to play for 
another hour, and then rest a little, we 
should still be early ; and I do not believe 
the sun will be any hotter then, and per- 
haps it will cloud over, or the wind will 
get up, and then, you know, it will be 
cooler instead of hotter.' 

6 So it may, indeed,' replied Astathes, 
* and I do not know why we should be in 
a hurry ; but what do you say, Agape V 

TT 3 
II u 



78 THE SPRING MORNING. 

That I mean to set out directly ; and 
so I hope you will too. Think how happy 
we should be to get to that beautiful home 
early : and then, remember how we were 
told, more than once, that the earlier we 
set out, the easier it would be to us to 
travel ; and I should have no pleasure in 
playing here, for thinking that the time 
w^as getting on, and that I had all my 
journey to go.' 

6 1 believe you are right,' said Astathes ; 
( so if you are for setting out directly, I 
think I shall go with you.' 

' Well then,' said the other, i let us be 
off directly, for every minute seems long 
to me now.' So he took his reed-flute, 
and hung his clear bottle at his side, and 
set out, and Astathes with him, for the 
side of the garden towards the plain. 
Then Edone and Argia began to laugh at 
them, and say, ( What a hurry you are 
in ; we shall be there as soon as you, and 
have all the pleasure of playing here too.' 



THE SPRING MORNING. 7b) 

Then Astatlies halted a little, and seemed 
ready to sit down again ; but Agape took 
him by the hand, and away they began to 
walk. But Edone grew angry at their 
going, and changed from laughing to 
scolding; and then seeing they minded 
not that either, he took up stones, and 
began to throw at them. Astathes was 
for stopping again to speak with him ; but 
Agape took his hand again, and said, 
6 See, the sun is getting high over the hills, 
even now ; let us push on, soon we shall 
be out of the reach of his stones.' But 
seeing Astathes still frightened, he said, 
' Let us try if the flute will help us ;' so he 
played two or three notes of sweet music, 
and it seemed that directly they had got 
out of reach of the stones, and heard no 
more of the bad language which had 
troubled them. 

So they walked on together, and began 
talking as little boys might talk. ' Oh 
Agape,' said Astathes, ( I wonder how 



80 THE SPRING MORNING. 

long the journey will take us, I long to get 
safely to its end.' 

' I hardly dare think yet of its end/ said 
the other, ' for we have only just set out, 
but I too long to get to the end.' 

' What a fine place that garden must be.' 

' Yes, and there I shall see again my 
father and mother, and the kind sister who 
used to nurse me when I was little ; and 
there we shall see the king of the country, 
who is kind to children, and loves to have 
them come and live with him.' 

So they talked ; and now they had come 
nearly to the waste, and first looked out 
into it. 

6 It looks very dreary and rough, Agape,' 
said he. 

( Oh ! never mind its looking rough, I 
can see already a pathway through the 
thorns which frighten you.' 

' Well, if you were not with me, I 
think even now I should turn back.' 

6 Never speak of turning back,' said 



THE SPRING MORNING. 81 

Agape, and just then he reached the last 
stile which parted the garden from the 
waste. Lightly he sprung over it, and was 
setting out on the waste without thinking 
of looking behind, w T hen he heard the voice 
of Astathes, who had not yet crossed the stile. 

'Wait a minute, Agape, I want to 
gather some of this fruit to take with us, 
w r e shall have none, I can see, on the waste.' 

' No, no, dear Astathes, do not stop 
for the fruit, we shall find what we want 
on the way.' 

' But it looks so very barren.' 

i See, here is a good path, do not stop 
any longer, or I must go without you.' 

' Well, I will only gather a few more 
bunches of this fruit, and then I shall 
overtake you.' 

Agape walked on a little, and then 
hearing Astathes call, he stopped again 
to speak to him. 

6 Why how fast you get on, I am afraid 
I shall never keep up with you. I think 



S3 THE SPRING MORNING. 

I shall just stop behind, and come after 
you with Argia and Edone ; you know 
they are only staying a little behind.' 

Once more Agape begged him to come, 
and once he almost persuaded him ; he 
climbed half up the stile, but then he 
let himself down again the wrong side, 
and then he stood leaning against it, and 
gazing at Agape, who was already almost 
out of sight over the first hill. So he 
stood for a time, and then when he could 
see no more of Agape, and could hear 
nothing of the others, the stillness of the 
place began to frighten him ; and so after 
a while he stole back again to Edone and 
Argia, who were still sitting on the plea- 
sant bank, eating strawberries. 

' So, here is one coming back again !' 
cried Edone, who was the first to see him ; 
and he began to laugh at him for the 
hurry in which he set off. Soon however 
they were good friends again : only As- 
tathcs would not join in laughing at 



THE SPRING MORNING. bo 

Agapfi, for in his heart he wished now that 
he had held on with him. 

Then they thought that they would 
begin again to play together for a while, 
as they had done at first ; but whether it 
was that the sun had got higher, and the 
air was too hot for play, or whether it was 
that the going away of Agape had made 
them all dull, I know not, but they never 
were able to play as they had done. They 
were loud, but they were not merry ; and 
as the sun rose higher and higher, they 
grew more and more tired of play and of 
one another. Then they sat down upon 
the bank to refresh themselves with the 
strawberries, but they had got hot too, 
and there was no refreshment in them : 
and Astathes began to think of what the 
kind grave man had said to them, and to 
wish in his heart more and more that he 
had gone with Agape. So as these 
thoughts passed through his mind, he said 
to his two companions, ' Had we not better 



84 THE SPRING MORNING. 

be thinking about setting off;' he spoke as 
if he was half afraid to say it, and Argia 
sleepily answered, ( Why ! the sun is just 
at the hottest now, surely you would not 
think of going now, we shall all be burned 
up with its heat.' But Edone looked 
angry, and said quite crossly, ' I wish you 
had taken yourself off with that fool 
Agape, and not stayed here to teaze us 
about going.' 

( I am sure I wish I had,' he answered 
sadly enough, at which Edone got quite 
into a passion, and declared he should not 
stay with them any longer, for that he 
spoiled all their pleasure : so they drove 
him away, and he wandered very sadly 
along the path in which he had set out 
with Agape, till he came to the stile lead- 
ing to the waste. Over this he looked out, 
and it seemed more barren and thorny 
than ever : the sun was very hot, and there 
was not a breath of wind ; and all up the 
hill-side there was nothing to give him 



THE SPRING MORNING. 85 

the least shelter ; and the pathway by 
which Agape had gone in the morning, 
seemed narrower than ever : so that some- 
times he could not see it at all, but all 
looked like a wall of thorns, through 
which he never could make his way ; and 
as he looked out, he wept, for his heart 
sunk down within him. 

But where, all this time, was Agape ? 
He had felt lonely enough when first 
Astathes had stayed behind ; and as he 
climbed the first hill, he felt its steep steps 
heavy travelling : he felt too that he was 
quite alone, and that he was but a weak 
child after all : so finding his heart begin- 
ning to faint, he pulled out his sweet-voiced 
flute to help his flagging steps, and played 
some sweet music upon it : and as he played, 
it seemed as if heavenly words went along 
with the music, and they said, " In the waste 
howling wilderness he compassed him 
about." (Deut.xxxii. 10.) Then he thought 
of the king, and his heart was lifted up, and 



8(3 THE SPRING MORNING. 

straightway he was at the top of the hill. 
Now his path lay for a while down hill ; 
and he stepped on cheerfuly and easily, 
until he came into a low green bottom ; 
here a stream ran across his path : he 
could see that sometimes after rain it was 
swelled very high, and there were marks 
put, to show the traveller who should 
come by at such seasons, how he might 
pass without being swept away. But it 
was low now, and there was no danger, so 
Agape stepped easily over the stones that 
were laid in it, and gained the other side. 
Now as he pushed on, the sun grew higher 
and % . higher in the heavens, and Agape 
began to feel faint and weary ; then he 
saw a soft green bank, and two or three 
bushes threw a pleasant shade upon it, 
and he was tempted to sit down upon it, 
and sleep awhile. But as he drew near it, 
looking carefully, he saw a snake lying in 
the grass, which startled him : so then he 
remembered himself, and he saw that the 



THE SPRING MORNING. 8/ 

deep footsteps of his guide had passed that 
bank by, and he thought, ' Perhaps, if I 
had fallen asleep there, I had never waked 
again. No, I will push on to my jour- 
ney's end : — rest, rest, in the beautiful 
garden.' But as the sun still scorched 
him, he thought of the bottle, and drawing 
it out, he took two or three drops from it, 
and as he drunk, his ears seemed to be 
filled with these kind words, " The sun 
shall not smite thee by day, neither the 
moon by night." (Psalm cxxi. 6.) So he 
looked up, and saw just before him a grove 
of tall trees, and that his road lay under 
them. Right glad was he of their shelter, 
and of the breeze which blew gently 
through them, waving their high tops, 
and fanning his hot brow with its fresh 
breath. Now he made way easily, and 
swiftly : and as he walked along, he could 
look around him into the wood, and as 
he looked, he saw that on all sides of his 
path there were snares, and gins, and 



88 THE SPRING MORNING. 

pitfalls, and sometimes the ground was 
all tumbled and torn by the mouth of the 
pitfalls, as if some one had fallen in and 
struggled mightily at the mouth to save 
himself ; and once or twice he saw in the 
gins and snares, what looked like the 
whitened bones of travellers who had been 
caught in them. . Then was he more 
thankful than ever, that he had passed 
through this wood before it was night- 
fall, for ' How,' he said to himself, ' if it 
was but twilight, — how should I possibly 
escape these dangers? ' With such thoughts 
he passed along ; and now when he was 
nearly out of the wood, he saw something 
creeping on towards him from the left hand 
of the path. He kept his eyes watchfully 
fixed upon it, for fear of any evil, for he 
was a watchful child. Soon he saw that 
it was indeed a very fearful beast, and 
in another moment he knew that it was a 
great lion ; already he could see that the 
lion's eye was upon him, and his long 



THE SPRING MORNING. 89 

white teeth were gnashing, and he was 
just ready to spring upon him. Then for a 
moment the boy's heart sunk quite low, 
and he was ready to give all over for lost, 
when the thought of his flute came into 
his mind, and taking it quickly out of his 
bosom, he played a few earnest notes upon 
it. As soon as the notes of the flute were 
heard, the lion turned round and dashed 
away into the thicket ; and Agape saw 
him no more, but instead of his loud 
angry growl, it seemed as if the refreshing 
breeze in the tree-tops formed itself into 
words, and it said to him, u Watch and 
pray, that ye enter not into temptation." 
" Resist the devil, and he shall flee from 
you." 

Then Agape passed out of the wood ; 
and as he came out of ifc, he could see be- 
fore him in the distance, for the first time, 
the gate of the beautiful gardens, golden 
and shining ; and within he thought he 
could see some heavenly figures, and he 



90 THE SPRING MORNING. 

fancied that perhaps they were his sister, 
and his father, and his mother, looking 
out upon his weary steps as he journeyed 
over the waste. His heart yearned after 
them, but his feet were weary, and 
the sun smote upon his head, and it 
seemed the hotter for the pleasant shade 
which he had left. Then, as he was 
tempted to turn back again to the wood, 
he saw plainly marked upon the road the 
beloved foot-prints — and forthwith taking 
courage, he drew out his flute and played, 
and so pressed more cheerfully along the 
road. He had not travelled far, when he 
saw by the road-side a pleasant arbour ; 
and though the footsteps had passed it by, 
he saw it written up in the writing of the 
king, that here it was lawful for weary 
travellers to rest awhile. So being foot- 
sore and worn, here he sat him down and 
drew out his bottle, and refreshed himself 
with its living water. Then as he sat, 
the heavens clouded over, and a mighty 



THE SPRING MORNING. 91 

storm swept by ; the rain fell in torrents, 
and he could hear the wild beasts in the 
wood that he had left, roar and moan, but 
they came not near him ; and after awhile, 
the storm passed over, the sky cleared 
again over head, and he set out on his 
way. The sun was now passed its mid- 
height, and there was a pleasant air beat- 
ing on his brow. So Agape moved on 
speedily, and by the rate at which he was 
going, it would not be long before he 
reached the golden gates of the happy 
gardens. 

But where, all this while, was Astathes, 
whom we left looking over the stile into 
the waste that lay towards the garden ? 
Long did he stand there bewailing his 
folly, that he had not gone with x4gape, 
until at last, looking up into the sky, he 
saw that the sun was past mid-day; and 
he thought how soon it would hasten 
to set ; and therefore that he must at once 
begin his journey, unless he would give up 



92 THE SPRING MORNING. 

all hopes. So, gathering all his courage 
he sprang over the stile. But he had 
almost turned back again as soon as he 
had set out, so sorely was he pricked by 
the thorns. Either the way was really 
narrower than it had been in the morning, 
or he did not tread so steadily as Agape : 
for where he had almost run, Astathes could 
now scarcely creep. A little, however, 
he did get on, though with many a rub 
and tear, and his feet and ancles were 
bleeding and wounded. Now, too, the path 
began to rise up the steep, and the sun 
was striking so hot upon his back, that he 
was ready to faint. Then he thought of 
his bottle, and he drew it out ; but it had 
been corked so long, that the cork had got 
fixed so firmly in, it was long before he 
could stir it, or get the least drop from it. 
At last, however, he did, and " Afterwards 
he repented and went," seemed to come 
with a promise of acceptance upon his 
spirit. And now he had not yet reached 



THE SPRING MORNING. 93 

the top of the hill, when the storm that 
overtook Agape safe in the king's arbour, 
fell upon him on the bare hill-side. 
Heavily did it beat upon him, as the rain 
fell in torrents, and the fierce gusts of the 
whirlwind swept by him, and the pealing 
thunder-clouds seemed to come quite down 
all around him. The ground, too, under 
his feet, became miry with the rain, so that 
he fell back almost as much as he gained, 
and often slipped quite down into the dirt, 
bruising and wounding himself sorely. At 
last, however, he reached the top, and down 
the other side of the slope he got on some- 
thing better ; though here, too, he slipped 
about, and got more than one shrewd fall. 
But when he came to the bottom of the 
slope, sorely was he put to it. The stream 
over which Agape had passed so easily in 
the morning, was now swelled into a roar- 
ing torrent, and it dashed along, foaming 
and boiling and eddying, carrying all along 
in its course. 



V% THE SPRING MORNING. 

Poor Astathes ! What shall he do ? 
either he must venture into the stream, 
or he must give up for ever the rest of the 
happy garden. Just then he spied the 
posts which were set to guard travellers in 
the time of floods. So plucking up a little 
courage, he began to creep along by them. 
First, the w r ater was ankle-deep, then it 
got knee-deep, then it rushed by his waist, 
and still the boy kept on, holding by the 
posts : another step, and it covered his 
shoulders, and lifted his feet from the 
ground. Firmly he held on to the post, or 
he had been quite swept away by the 
stream, and carried down with it and 
drowned. When at last he gained his 
feet again, he knew not what to do. He 
was not nearly through the stream, and 
what if the next step he took, he should 
lose footing of the bottom altogether, and 
the waters should pass over him, and he 
should perish ? Then, first, he thought 
of his flute, and he said within himself, 



THE SPRING MORNING. 95 

1 Perchance this may help me.' With sore 
trouble he drew it out, and tried to make 
some music upon it ; but not a note could 
he sound. Then he saw that either in his 
many falls as he came along, or else whilst 
he was playing idly in the garden, the 
earth had got into his flute and almost 
stopped up its small holes, so that no 
sound could pass. Here, however, the 
waters helped him, and by the time that 
he was almost benumbed, he had got the 
flute clear enough to be able to waken on 
it a few poor notes — and so soon as its 
sound was heard, the waters began to sink, 
and the child thought that he heard a 
sweet voice amongst their roaring. He 
could hardly hear what it said, but he 
thought it was this : " When thou passest 
through the floods they shall not overflow 
thee." Then did he dare put forth his 
foot again to try anothei step, and he 
found that he was already at the deepest 
part ; so clinging close to the posts, and 



96 THE SPRING MORNING. 

much fearing still, lest there should be any 
ugly holes before him into which he might 
fall and be lost, but still saying over to 
himself the words that he had heard, he 
crept through and climbed, faint and 
weary, up the other side. When he 
reached it, he sunk down upon the grass ; 
so cold and numbed and tired was he ; and 
there he might have laid till he died, if he 
had not thought upon his precious bottle, 
which soon so far revived him, that again 
he girded up his strength, and passed on 
towards the wood. 

Just at this very time Agape was reach- 
ing the golden gates ; the sun had not 
quite set, but it hung just over the top of 
the far hills, and shot a red golden bright- 
ness over every thing. Rich and beautiful 
did those gates shine out before the glad 
eyes of happy Agape. Now he could see 
plainly, multitudes of heavenly creatures 
passing about within ; wearing light as a 
garment, and crowns that looked like 



THE SPRING MORNING. 97 

living fire. At times too, he could hear 
bursts of ravishing music, which the garden 
seemed always to be sending up on high, 
and some few notes of which strayed out 
even into the path-way of the plain. 

And now he stood before the gate ; full 
was his heart of hope and fear : a pleasant 
happy fear, as if too much joy lay close 
before him. Now all the troubles of the 
way were over ; and as he looked back, it 
seemed but a little moment since he had 
left the beautiful, but deceiving garden in 
the morning, and all his troubles seemed 
light. The scorching of the sun he re- 
membered no more — the weary hill- side, 
the gin-set forest, and the lion's paw^s: 
all these seemed little now ; and he only 
thought of them to thank the king who 
had brought him so safely through all. 
As he lifted up his eyes to do so, they 
lighted upon a golden writing which was 
hung over the gate. So he read the 
writing, and it was, " Knock, and it shall 

K 



98 THE SPRING MORNING. 

be opened." Then did he indeed draw 
in a deep breath, as one does before doing- 
some great thing, and knocked with all his 
force : and so as soon as he knocked, the 
golden door began to open, and the happy 
boy entered the garden. 

What awaited him there, it is not given 
me to tell ; but from the blessed sounds 
which fell upon my ear as the gate rolled 
back, I may not doubt that he was entirely 
happy ; for it was as if the sound of a sea 
of heavenly voices suddenly swept by me. 

Just as Agape reached the golden door, 
Astathes was entering on the wood. As 
he turned into it he saw the sun sink be- 
low the far-off hills. Twilight came fast 
on, and he soon found it very hard to trace 
out the path. So thick were the branches 
over head, and so faint and feeble the re- 
maining light. More than once he was 
on the very brink of a deep pit-fall, 
and only saved himself from falling in, 
by catching at the bushes which grew 



THE SPRING MORNING. 99 

round its mouth. More than once too, 
did he get his foot entangled in those gins 
and snares wherewith the side of the path 
was full, and only escaped from them 
grazed and hurt by the sharp teeth of the 
biting traps. On all sides of him, too, 
wild beasts were roaring. Now had that 
come true, of which in the morning he 
had been warned — that out of every bush, 
instead of the liquid notes of sweet singing 
birds, there should gleam forth upon him 
the fiery eyes of savage monsters thirsting 
for his blood. As he heard their deep 
roars, or, more near to him, the savage 
snapping of their sharp teeth ; as he saw 
their fiery eyes, and almost felt the brush- 
ing of their soft or wiry hides, he felt 
more than ever before, how foolish he had 
been in losing the morning hours, and not 
passing through the wood whilst the sun 
was high. His escaping all these dangers 
was a wonder above the power of man. 
But as he went into the wood, he had 



100 THE SPRING MORNING. 

taken his flute out of his bosom, and 
though he could not draw from it such 
music as came from the breath of Agape 
on his, yet now, by care and trouble, it was 
much freed from its earthly hindrances, 
and made a low clear music. All the 
wood through did Astathes keep playing 
on the flute ; never was it from his lips ; 
and though he woke from it no sounds of 
pleasure, or of triumph, yet it doubtless 
saved him from the fierce jaws which on 
every side were gaping for him ; and he 
passed out of the wood in safety. But when 
he entered on the plains beyond, no such 
clear sight of the golden gates, or the 
happy gardens gladdened his eyes as 
Agape had seen. Perchance in the twi- 
light there was a little brightness there- 
abouts, but it was dull and uncertain ; and 
after his frights in the wood, the boy's 
heart would have fainted wholly within 
him, if it had not been for the precious 
bottle with which he moistened his parched 



THE SPRING MORNING. 101 

lips. " He shall make thy darkness to be 
light ;" the waving boughs of the trees then 
seemed to murmur to him, as he walked 
from under their shelter ; and this raised 
his spirits, so that he again set forth. Now 
was he by the arbour, but the twilight was 
too far advanced for him to see it, or to 
rest therein. So, weary and distressed, he 
pressed forward, until at length a " light 
rose upon his darkness ;" for he too, as 
he drew nearer to the golden gates, was 
soothed with some soft sounds of mercy, 
until with a beating heart, and a straining 
eye, he seized the golden knocker, and 
oh, joy of joys ! the gate opened for his 
entrance, and Astathes, poor wavering 
Astathes himself, of the king's bounteous 
goodness, entered the heavenly garden. 

But what, all this day through, were 
Edone and Argia doing ? 

After they had driven Astathes from 
them, they sat for a while longer on the 
same grassy bank, dreamily doing nothing. 
k o 



102 THE SPRING MORNING. 

Then as the sun grew hotter and hotter, 
Argia fell asleep, and Edone strolled some 
way from him to gather the rich-looking 
ripe fruit which hung from a tree a little 
further on ; there he sat for hours eating" 
the fruit, and throwing the stones play- 
fully from him ; whilst Argia still slept on 
in the pleasant shade, until the sun was 
beginning to set. Just at that moment 
Edone saw a fierce beast coming nigh to 
Argia. He thought it very shocking to 
see his friend eaten up by the beast, but 
he was much more afraid for himself, and 
he thought that if he called to wake up 
Argia, the beast might perhaps turn upon 
him instead. So he tried, without making 
any noise, to steal away into the wood. 
The beast came up to Argia, who slept so 
soundly that he seemed to be dead ; when 
just at that moment Edone shook the 
bushes as he fled away. The evil beast 
looked up, and seeing Edone, he sprung 
like lightning after him, and Argia was 



THE SPRING MORNING. 103 

first woke up, by hearing the dreadful 
shrieks of Edone, as the beast seized him 
in his claws, and doubtless tore him in 
pieces. It was a sad hearing for Argia. 
He started up and ran he knew not 
whither ; then he thought of his flute, and 
felt for it in his bosom, but it had fallen 
out whilst he slept, and he hardly dared 
steal back to look for it. At last, how- 
ever, he did : but when he found it, it 
was so bent and bruised in his sleep, that 
it seemed as if it never again would make 
any music. However, having found it, he 
started off as fast as his feet would carry 
him ; and as it happened, he ran straight 
to the stile over which Agape and Asta- 
thes had passed. In his sore fear he 
sprung over the stile, and began to hurry 
up the hill in spite of the thorns and the 
steepness. But there he was lost from 
my eyes in the gathering darkness of the 
night ; and I know not how it fared with 
him further. Whether he was drowned 



104 THE SPRING MORNING. 

in the swollen stream, or lost in the pit- 
falls, or snared in the gins, or devoured by 
beasts, or whether he did straighten and 
tune his marred flute, and with the help of 
its music just reached the golden gates, I 
cannot say ; but I greatly fear for Argia, 
for I know who it is that hath said, " The 
night cometh when no man can work." 

Q. What was the pleasant garden, and 
who were these boys in it ? 

A. The garden is this world and its 
pleasures ; and the boys are the children 
of Christian people. 

G. Who bade them set out early, and 
gave them " prayer" and " promise" to 
help them ? 

A. Jesus Christ our Saviour gave them 
these in His Church, into which they had 
been received at baptism. 

Q. Who set out directly ? 

A. Agape, or ' Love,' who longed to 
reach the better country. 



THE SPRING MORNING. 105 

Q. Who set out with him, "but turned 
back at the stile ? 

A. Astathes, or i the waverer.' 

Q. What was the stile that turned him 
back ? 

A. The first difficulties of self-denial 
in the service of Christ. 

Q. Why was the journey of Agape easy? 

A. Because he set out early, and re- 
ligion is easiest to those who do so. 

Q. What is meant by the beautiful 
music of his flute ? 

A. That his prayers were heavenly, and 
that he had much communion with God. 

Q. What did this save him from ? 

A. All the dangers of the way. 

Q. When Astathes went back from the 
stile, whom did he join ? 

A. His worldly companions, who would 
not set out yet in Christ's service. 

Q. Was he truly happy with them ? 

A. No : for there is no true friendship 
or happiness without God. 



106 THE SPRING MORNING. 

Q. Was this unhappiness of use to him? 

A. Yes, it led him to set out in earnest 
for a better country. 

Q. Was his journey as easy as that of 
Agape ? 

A. No ; all his difficulties and dangers 
were greater ; it was much harder to be- 
gin to serve God. 

Q. What is meant by his flute being 
choked with mud? 

A. That prayer cannot rise from an 
earthly heart. 

Q. What is meant by the water in which 
he was almost lost, making it easier for 
him to play on it ? 

A. That affliction often teaches men to 
pray in earnest. 

Q. Did his troubles last ? 

A. Yes ; almost all through his jour- 
ney, he had more difficulty and less com- 
fort than Agape. 

Q. Tell me in the language of scripture 
why this was ? 



THE SPRING MORNING. 107 

A. Because lie did not " Remember 
his Creator in the clays of his youth, be- 
fore the evil days come, and the years 
draw nigh, wherein," he said, " I have no 
pleasure in them." 

Q. Was he received at last ? 

A. Yes ; of God's mercy he did reach 
the heavenly place. 

Q. Did Edone or ' pleasure ?' 

A. No ; whilst he was selfishly trying 
to escape, by leaving his friend to be 
destroyed, he w r as overtaken by de- 
struction. 

Q. What is meant by the flute of Argia 
being bent and broken in his sleep ? 

A. That a life of worldliness and indo- 
lence robs a man of the power of prayer. 

Q. What is meant by his getting so 
easily over the stile ? 

A. That in the terror of punishment, 
men whose hearts are not truly turned to 
God, often make great efforts to escape 
when it is too late. 



108 THE SPRING MORNING. 

Q. Did Argia, or ' indolence/ who 
waited till eventide, escape ? 

A. We know not : for some are re- 
ceived at the eleventh hour : but we 
greatly fear that he perished. 



VIII. 

THE RUNNERS. 

I dreamed that I was walking through a 
foreign country far away from this land : 
and I thought I came to a wide grassy plain, 
sprinkled over here and there with shrubs 
and trees, between which lay an open 
space, looking as green, and smooth, and 
fresh, as a newly-mown lawn ; and as I 
was casting my eyes over it, and wondering 
w T hy it was kept so smooth, I saw a num- 
ber of persons all crowded together at one 
end of it ; so I walked on till I joined 
them, that I might learn w^hat was going 
on. There I saw several of 'the group 
dressed all alike, and could soon see that 



110 THE RUNNERS. 

they were ready to run a race. They had 
cast off all those clothes which could hin- 
der them in running, and they seemed to 
be all ready to set out as soon as the sig- 
nal should be given. While I was look- 
ing at them, a herald of the king of the 
land came out of his tent, and began to 
read to them the rules of the race. He 
told them that the king would give crowns 
to all who strove earnestly in that race. 
That these crowns would be brighter than 
any crowns of this earth ; and that he 
would take every one who won a crown, 
to receive him into his family, and treat 
him as his own son ; and that such should 
never suffer more, or want any thing ; but 
that they should dwell for ever in the 
king's palace, and be as happy as heart 
could wish. He told them, too, that all 
who halted in the race, or did not run 
earnestly, would lose these crowns, and 
that they would be as surely punished, as 
the rest would be rewarded ; that they 



THE RUNNERS. Ill 

would be cast into a dark and dreary- 
country, where they would work ever 
under hard taskmasters, and groan for 
their stripes and misery, without help and 
without hope. 

When I heard these rules, I looked 
more earnestly than before upon the men 
who were about to run ; and to my sur- 
prise I saw that there were many more 
than I had seen at first. There were 
many whom I had thought mere by- 
standers or lookers-on, but who I now saw 
were indeed amongst the runners. Yet 
I could scarcely believe it. For they were 
not dressed like the others ; they had 
taken no care to gird up their loins ; some 
of them had long flowing clothes, which 
must get in their way as soon as they 
began to run ; some were eating and 
drinking, forgetting that they had a hard 
struggle before them, and would need to 
be as light and as active as possible w T hen 
they got into the race ; and yet all seemed 



112 THE RUNNERS. 

to think that they should do very well, 
and made no doubt at all that there were 
crowns for them as well as for the rest. 

Even amongst those who were better 
prepared, I could see, on looking closer, a 
great difference between some and others. 
Some were strong and active, and looked 
as if they could not fail of getting the 
first crown, and living for ever in the 
happy palace of the king; whilst others 
were pale and faint, as if they had hardly 
any strength to walk, and must fall short 
as soon as they began to run. Some 
seemed too old to do any thing but hobble, 
and some so young that they could scarcely 
do more than crawl. 

Whilst I was looking them over arid 
over, and waiting eagerly to see the end, 
I heard a trumpet sound, and all who were 
to run got ready for the start. Soon an- 
other trumpet sounded, and away they set. 
For a few paces all went on together, but 
only for a few. First I saw that those 



THE RUNNERS. 113 

who had been carelessly eating and drink- 
ing, and never thinking of the race they 
had to run, began to flag and faint. One 
after another they halted, and as the rest 
ran on, they were soon left altogether 
behind. Then I saw that one and another 
of those who would not put on the run- 
ner's dress, began to stumble and fall, as 
their long clothes caught the wind, and 
entangled their feet. So they too were 
left behind. Only one or two of them 
began to strive to cast off their long gar- 
ments, and to gird up their loins like the 
better runners. But whilst they stopped 
for this, the rest passed on, and they were 
left quite behind : all but one, who, though 
he was a good way behind, yet seemed 
determined not to lose the crown, and so 
laboured mightily to regain the ground that 
he had lost, and I could see him still follow- 
ing, though far behind, and looking very 
weary and distressed, but still pressing on 
as one who would not give up the struggle. 
l 3 



114 THE RUNNERS. 

Arid now their number was sadly 
thinned, and I could look all the closer at 
those who still followed on. One brave 
runner there was who took the lead of all; 
he was made for speed and strength, and 
though he was at the head of the race, he 
did not seem to labour so much as many 
that got on less quickly, for he often 
looked round to see how others fared, and 
had a jest ready when this one fell off, 
and a joke when another stumbled. As 
they turned a corner in the course, I heard 
one of the king's heralds speak to this man 
in a grave sad voice as he went by, and he 
seemed to say to him, " Let him that 
thinketVhe standeth, take heed lest he 
falL" 1 Cor. x. 12. 

Then there followed another, and he 
too was a brave runner ; he set his feet 
firmly on the ground, and drew his 
breath so evenly, it seemed as if nothing 
would weary him. But as I watched 
his running, I saw that he hardly ever 



THE RUNNERS. 115 

looked on to the end of the course. He 
had his eyes sometimes on the ground, 
sometimes on those near him ; and if a 
bird did but fly out of a bush with gayer 
feathers than the rest, or if the air was 
scented with sweet- smelling flowers, he 
would make a half stop, as if he must 
stay for them, before he could go on 
with the race. A little way behind him 
came another, and he too, methought, 
promised well for a crown, for he too had 
a strong step, and an active body ; but his 
eyes too were wandering, and once or 
twice I thought, as he passed near the 
fruit-trees of that land, on which grew 
fruit of gold and silver, that I saw him 
catch at the beautiful boughs, as if he 
wished to fill his hands even whilst he ran 
the race. T heard one of the heralds 
speak to these two also : and to the first 
he said, in a chiding tone, and yet full of 
kindness, " I press toward the mark " 
(Phil. iii. 14) ; and to the other, "Laying 



116 THE RUNNERS. 

aside every weight," (Heb. xii. 1); but 
it did not seem to me that his words 
sunk much into their hearts. For a little 
while indeed they ran more steadily, but 
soon I could mark their eyes wandering, 
and their hands stretched out, just as they 
were before the warning. 

Someway after these there came another. 
He was not so strong as those who had gone 
before, but there was a great firmness in 
his face, and his eyes seemed set straight 
on, as if he looked at something in the air 
before him. Then I strove more earnestly 
to see on what his eyes were set, and I 
could see far before him the end of the 
course, and there the judge's chair was 
set, and the judge himself was seated 
in it. He was a grave and comely per- 
son, and a crown was on his head; and 
at his right hand there were shining 
crowns stored up for those who prospered 
in the race ; and I thought as I looked, 
that his eyes were on the steady runner, 



THE RUNNERS. 117 

and that he looked at him with kindness 
and love. 

Then came another, and he was nimble 
and light of foot, though he was now so 
far behind, — a little while before, and he 
had been the front of all ; and then he 
had stopped to take breath, as though he 
were confident that at any time he could 
regain the ground that he had lost: and 
so now he was far behind, and there came 
a warning to him from one of the heralds, 
and it was this, " Be not weary in well 
doing," and when he heard it he started 
forward, and got nearly to the head of all ; 
but then he grew slothful, and began to 
pause again, as if the race w T as nothing 
more than sport, and its bright crown 
no better than a jest. While he w r as 
thus loitering, I noticed one come up, 
whom I had marked at first, as very lame 
and aged. He had soon been left behind: 
yet still there was a great earnestness 
in his countenance. Many times when 



I 18 THE RUNNERS. 

I thought he must have given in, I heard 
him call upon the name of the king, 
as if he would not be left behind ; and 
then strength came unto his weakness, and 
he got on nobly in the course. Lame, too, 
as he was, I saw him often lend a hand to 
a poor feeble-looking runner, who was 
pressing on behind him. He too was in 
earnest, but he was very weak, and often 
his steps tottered, and he caught at the 
hand of the lame man, or he must have 
fallen : and so it was, that whenever the 
lame man helped him on, instead of being 
delayed by his kindness, he seemed to help 
himself too ; and the crown looked brighter 
at the end of the course, and the judge's 
chair and the goal seemed to come nearer 
to him. 

Now behind them came a fair child, 
beautiful to look upon, and almost with the 
face of an angel; but how its little feet 
could bear the road, or what could put into 
its young heart to run the race, I could 



THE RUNNERS. 119 

scarcely think, till I saw that a hand was 
guiding it I had not seen at first : and 
there was written upon it in letters of 
gold, "He shall gather the lambs in his 
arms." So then I knew that the little 
child was safe, and I fancied that I could 
see the judge holding out the crown which 
was to adorn that infant head. 

But as I gazed, I heard a cry as 
of one in distress, and I looked round, 
and I saw the foremost runner fallen 
all along upon the ground. Alas, he 
had not minded the warning of the he- 
rald : he had not fixed his eyes upon the 
crowns and the goal : and so as he was 
looking idly round to see how others fared, 
he stumbled and fell, and now he lay all 
along upon the ground, and he could not 
regain his footing. The ground where he 
had fallen was all miry and unsound, and 
the more he struggled the more he sunk 
into it. I heard him cry out, and a sharp 
sad cry it was, but I never heard him call 



L90 THE RUNNERS. 

upon the king, and so he lay struggling and 
labouring, until all had passed him by, 
and he was left behind. 

The others passed on : but the careless 
runner, I grieved to see,, was still running 
carelessly, and looking no more towards 
the end of the race, nor pressing more 
towards the mark than when I saw him 
last. I feared for him too : and even as 
I looked, a beautiful bird of the rarest 
feathers fluttered out of a bush by the 
side, and almost within his reach. I saw 
his eyes sparkle, and he turned a little on 
one side, it was only a little, and he did 
not wholly cease from his running, but 
that little cost the poor man his crown : 
for there were secret spikes set amongst 
that grass which lay out of the road, and 
as he hurried on after the gay bird which 
fluttered just before him, he trod amongst 
the spikes and fell ; and as I looked, I 
saw that it was written up, just where 
he had left the smooth grass of the 



THE RUNNERS. 121 

course, " The way of transgressors is 
hard." 

He who had been warned at the same 
time b} r the king's faithful herald, was just 
by when his companion turned aside out of 
the way ; and when he saw the other fall, 
for a time me thought it made his counte- 
nance graver, and he raised his eyes and 
looked off from the trees of gold to the 
far end of the course. And then there 
fell a light upon his face, which I had 
never seen on it before. But soon it died 
away ; and a film gathered over his eyes, 
and the crowns and the end were hidden 
from them ; and just then a golden bough 
stretched quite out into the road, and its 
fruit of silver and of gold almost touched 
his hands. He looked at it, and I feared 
that he was lost. He stopped to handle 
it. He gathered some of its rich fruit, 
and began to load himself with it. Just 
then came up the slower runner, whose 
eyes had ever been fixed upon the end. 
M 



122 THE RUNNERS. 

To him he offered some of the spoil, if he 
would stay and help to gather it : but the 
man could not take his eyes off from the 
end ; and so he looked not round upon 
the baits with which the other strove to 
tempt him, but saying, "I press toward the 
mark," he was for passing on his way. The 
sound of those words which he had heard 
of old from the herald, startled the other 
somewhat, and he let the bough go. Then 
there came, as from the air, a voice which 
said, " They that will be rich fall into 
temptation and a snare ;" and again, " But 
thou, O man of God, flee these things." 
When he heard these words, the faithful 
runner hastened on his way ; and even the 
tarrying runner trembled and set out again 
upon his course. But he could not bring 
himself to cast away the fruit that he had 
gathered; and it grew heavier and heavier, 
as he strove to carry it, until first he 
halted, and then he fell by the way-side, 
pierced through with many sorrows. 



THE RUNNERS. 123 

Then there passed by one running 
bravely, with his face towards the goal, 
and his steps nimble ; and I was glad 
when I saw the man so earnest, for I 
could see that it was the same who had 
fallen back before, from loving to take his 
ease ; and now I had good hopes for him, 
that he would hold on to the end. Yet even 
as he ran, my heart misgave me for him ; 
and I looked round with more confidence 
on the lame man and his fainting friend, 
who were striving to reach the end. Close 
by them too was the fair child, who seemed 
to glide along the way, so easy was his 
running. I could not take my eyes from 
them, though I could hear still further 
back the voice of one calling on the king 
for aid, and I thought by the sound, that 
it grew somewhat nearer. But as I 
listened to it, I heard a sound of the 
sweetest music, and I saw, on looking up, 
that it came from golden harps on which 
men clothed in white were playing round 



124 THE RUNNERS. 

the judge's chair ; and now they touched 
their harps because one had reached the 
end. Then I drew near to see who was 
the happy man : it was not the man who 
had just before passed me so nimbly, but 
it was the slower runner whose face had 
been set so steadily to the end of the race. 
And I saw that as he drew near, the king 
smiled upon him with a loving smile ; and 
he spake the word, and a crown was 
brought to him, and he set it on his ser- 
vant's head. It was bright to look upon, 
like the diamond and the topaz, and on it 
there was written in letters of fire which 
flashed out on every side — "Be thou 
faithful unto death, and I will give thee 
the crown of life." 

Then the golden doors of the king's 
palace were rolled back, and beautiful 
lights and sounds were seen and heard 
from within — and I saw the crowned run- 
ner walk towards the door, and he passed 
within, and the happy crowd within 






THE RUNNERS. 125 

thronged about him, and gave him a glad 
welcome ; and though I could but just 
see his face, I saw that joy sat upon it ; 
that the struggle of his hard race was over, 
and that sorrow and sighing had fled far 
away. Much did I long to go in with 
him into the happy place, but it was only 
for the runners; and the golden gates 
shut soon upon him, and hid their joy 
from those who were without. 

Whilst I was wishing to run in the 
race myself, I heard the harps of gold 
touched again, and give out their sweet 
music. Then I looked up, and three more 
of the runners drew near. The lame man, 
and the fainting runner, and the fair child 
stood before the judge's chair. The king 
looked on them with his mild love, and he 
called straightway for crowns, which he 
set upon their heads. Then I saw that 
on the crown of the lame man it was writ- 
ten, " He that endureth to the end, the 
same shall be saved :" and turning to him 
m 3 



126 THE RUNNEKS. 

who had so often almost fainted in the 
way, and who could even now scarcely 
believe that he was safely landed at the 
goal, I saw it written on his crown, 
" To him that hath no might, he increas- 
eth strength :" whilst the fair child looked 
fairer and more beautiful than ever, and 
he bore upon his crown the writing, 
" Suffer the little children to come unto 
me, and forbid them not, for of such is 
the kingdom of heaven." 

Then these three walked together to- 
wards the golden doors, which opened for 
them of their own accord, to the sound of 
the sweetest music ; and they too went in 
and were soon mingled with the happy 
people there. 

Then I thought within myself of the 
man who had passed so nimbly by me, 
and promised so well for a crown, and yet 
who had not reached the end.* So I 
walked slowly down the course to see if 
I could light upon him. I had gone but 



THE RUNNERS. 127 

a little way from the end when I saw a 
choice arbour ; shady with flowery shrubs, 
and sweet with every scented flower ; and 
there on the mossy seat within I saw the 
nimble runner stretched out at length, 
and fast asleep. So I tried to awaken 
him, but could not — he only turned in his 
sleep and slept the sounder. My heart 
was grieved for the man, but as I came 
out of the arbour, I saw he had not been 
unwarned ; for it was written up over 
the door-way by which he had come 
in : " Slothfulness casteth into a deep 
sleep." 

And as I came out, I heard the same 
voice of one calling on the king, which I 
had heard before, and looking round I saw 
the runner who had so late cast off his 
flowing robes, and girded himself for the 
race. He was toiling indeed with his eye 
fixed on the end, and yet only seeing its 
brightness at times ; and when it w r as 
clouded over, I heard him call again upon 



128 THE RUNNERS. 

the king, like one who feared that all was 
lost. 

But now his troubles were well nigh 
over, for soon he heard the welcoming 
music of those heavenly harps, and a 
crown was brought out for him which 
shone with these words : " Faint, yet pur- 
suing;" and the golden door opened for 
him, and the scales fell altogether from 
his eyes, and all the labour of his race was 
forgotten in the fulness of the joy which 
flowed into his soul. So whilst I was 
thinking how I could myself begin to run 
in this race, I awoke, and behold it was 
a dream. 

Q. Do you remember any passages of 
scripture which this may explain ? 

A. Yes: " So run that ye may obtain." 
" I therefore so run, not as uncertainly," 
. . . " but I keep under my body, and 
bring it into subjection. . . . They do it 
to obtain a corruptible crown, but we 



THE RUNNERS. 129 

an incorruptible." (1 Cor. ix. 24 — 27.) 
" Let us lay aside every weight, and the 
sin which doth so easily beset us, and let 
us run with patience the race that is set 
before us." Heb. xii. 1. 

Q. What then is the race ? 

A. The Christian life. 

Q,. What is the crown ? 

A. Everlasting life. 

Q. Who is it that gives it ? 

A. Our heavenly Father. 

Q. Who are they who set out unpre- 
pared ? 

A. Those who have been baptized, and 
are called Christians, but who will not 
strive to serve God. 

Q. Who is he that ran so bravely, but 
fell whilst he was looking about him ? 

A. One who set out well, but fell away 
through trusting in himself, and not in 
Christ. 

1 Q. Who was he whom the gay bird 
lured away? 



130 THE RUNNERS. 

A. One who follows " the pleasures of 
sin, which are but for a season." 

Q,. Who was it that stopped to gather 
the golden fruits ? 

A. One whom the love of riches and 
earthly pleasures tempted to forget heaven 
and Christ's promised crown. 

Q. Who was it that was asleep in the 
arbour ? 

A. The slothful man, who wishes to 
get to heaven, but will not take the trou- 
ble of going on serving God. 

Q,. And who was he who did not pro- 
mise much at first, but kept his eyes fixed 
on the end, and the soonest got the crown ? 

A. One who makes no noise about 
his religion, but looks steadily to Christ, 
and to the end, and so who serves God 
truly. 

Q. And what do the three who came 
in together teach you ? 

A. That Christ will hold up the weak, 
and the lame, and children too, and carry 



THE RUNNERS. 131 

them safely to the end, if they will trust 
in him, and strive earnestly to serve him : 
and that God's service is easier to holy 
children than to any others. 

Q. What is to be learned from him 
who came in last ? 

A. That they who begin to serve Christ 
late, have more difficulties than others ; 
but that if they strive mightily and call in 
earnest on Him for help, he will at last 
carry them through in safety, and give 
them the crown of life. 



IX. 

THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 

In a large upper room, just under the flat 
roof of the house, sat a family at breakfast. 
They were round a rude wooden table, 
and they lay along on benches which were 
placed round its sides. 

A fine family they were to look on, that 
old venerable man and his eight sons. 
The three who were the nearest to their 
father looked like soldiers. They belonged 
to the king's own guard, and proud enough 
they were that they did so. There were 
no finer men in all the camp of Saul than 
these, when they went out after him in 
their shining armour, treading strongly 
on the ground, and making it rattle and 



THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 133 

shake under their brazen greaves. Now 
they sat unarmed like the rest round the 
table, eating the loaves and parched corn 
and cheese and butter which their father 
had brought out of his stores ; and the 
fresh honey in the honey-comb which 
their youngest brother had found in the 
wood. 

The old man looked happily round upon 
his sons, and perhaps his eye rested 
with an especial love upon his youngest ; 
for he was still a lad, not come to the 
height or strength of his brothers, and 
his long hair curled over his ruddy coun- 
tenance, which looked fresh and clear as 
the dewy morning. A stranger would not 
much have noticed him amongst these 
strong fine men, his elder brothers : and 
they all despised him for his youth ; and 
left him to take charge of their father's 
sheep. But there was One who did not 
despise him. There was One who look- 
ed on him with far more favour than on 



134 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 

those proud and haughty soldiers ; and 
that One was God. For this young lad 
had sought and found the God of his 
fathers. He was a holy youth — he loved 
to hear of God — he knew all the wonder- 
ful histories of his people of old; how 
God had chosen Abraham, and blessed 
Isaac, and preserved Jacob. He loved to 
hear of the time when in the far wilder- 
ness, Jacob had laid his head upon a stone 
to sleep, and God had sent him the beau- 
tiful visions of his holy angels coming up 
and down as on a ladder from the earth to 
heaven ; on all these things he would 
think and ponder as he sat watching the 
sheep in the waste ; and sometimes you 
might see his hands clasped together in 
earnest prayer to this great God of Abra- 
ham ; sometimes his eyes would fill with 
tears, which would run all down his cheeks 
as he thought of these deep things, and 
longed to know God more himself, and to 
see some of these wonderful and great 



THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 135 

sights whichi holy men before now had 
seen. Sometimes you might hear him 
playing on a little harp, which he loved so 
well that he seldom went to the far folds 
without it ; and then he would sing to its 
music, and pour out the most holy and 
heavenly praises and psalms. God was 
teaching this shepherd all these holy 
songs, in which his full pure heart ran 
over when he praised and gave thanks 
unto His name. 

Once when he was thus praising and 
thanking his God, he did find in a wonder- 
ful way that God was near unto him. It 
was the winter time : the snow lay upon 
the high grounds : and the wind roared 
and howled through the woods, making the 
tops of the cedar-trees bow and murmur 
like the waves of the sea, or the whisper- 
ing of some great army in a place of 
many echoes. He had pent up his flock 
in a sheltered place, under the lee of a 
high wood, and as he sat watching them, 



136 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 

and listening to the tossing trees, it 
seemed to him as if the voice of the wind 
and the murmur of the forest was a song 
of praise to the God of all. ' I will not 
be silent/ he said within himself, i whilst 
all things are praising the Lord :' so he 
took up his harp, and began to sing to the 
wild notes which it flung forth as his hand 
swept over it. Perhaps he sung as he once 
did, "Praise the Lord upon earth; ye 
dragons and all deeps ; fire and hail, snow 
and vapour, wind and storms, fulfilling his 
word : mountains and all hills ; fruitful 
trees and all cedars; beasts and all cattle. 
. . . young men and maidens ; old men 
and children ; praise the name of the 
Lord, for his name only is excellent, and 
his praise above heaven and earth." Psa. 
cxlviii. 7 — 12. 

Hardly had he finished the last words 
when he thought that he heard a roaring 
louder and nearer than that of the forest 
behind him, and looking up, he saw that 



THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 1ST 

a great lion and a savage bear, whom cold 
and hunger had brought from the moun- 
tain-woods into the plain, were coming 
near the fold that he was keeping. 

It w r as a fearful sight to see those savage 
beasts drawing near to him. The lion 
crouching along the ground ; its long tail 
stretched straight out behind it ; its eyes 
fixed ; and looking ready to spring upon 
him in a moment ; the bear too, with its 
heavy awkward trot, fierce red eyes and 
shaggy head; this was a fearful sight 
to a lonely shepherd boy on a far hill- 
side. He might call as loud as he 
would, and no man would hear him or 
help him. 

But was he frightened ? These thoughts 
you may be sure came fast into his mind 
as he looked at the fierce and evil beasts ; 
but he was not frightened : for other 
thoughts came with them. It came into 
his mind, as if God had sent the thought, 
that though no man was there, yet that he 

N O 



138 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 

was not alone ; that God was very fligli to 
him, and that never was he so little alone 
as when all men were afar off, and God was 
near him. So he lifted up his heart to 
God and said, ' O Lord God of Abraham, 
be nigh unto thy servant that prayeth,' 
and then with a great shout, he rushed 
upon the beasts with no more than his 
shepherd's staff. And God was with him 
of a truth, and so mightily was he 
strengthened, that he seized the beasts by 
the beard, and slew them in the strength 
of the God of all. 

Then he blessed and praised the Lord. 
But he made no vaunt of what he had 
clone : only he stored the thought of it up 
in his heart; and many times afterward, 
when danger threatened him, he said 
within himself, <( The Lord which de- 
livered me out of the paw of the lion, 
and out of the paw of the bear, He will 
deliver me." 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

" And he was baptized, he and all hi$> 
straightway." — Acts xvi. 33. 

In my visions, I saw a tent pitched upon 
a fair plain. It was a large tent, of the 
purest white cloth, so that it might be 
seen afar off; and when the sun shone 
brightly upon it, and the wind lifted up 
the folds of a great flag which hung from 
its top, it was indeed a noble sight. When 
the flag unfolded itself in the breeze, you 
might see upon it a blood-red cross, upon 
a ground of snow-white silk. 

Many people were going in and out of 
the tent. Sometimes a single man would 



140 THL TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

go in silently and thoughtfully, with a 
heavy countenance, and he would come 
out again after a time, with a glow upon 
his face, and a firmer step than that with 
which he went in. Sometimes a husband 
and wife would go in together ; some- 
times a father and a mother, with their 
children; sometimes a child would lead 
in an old man ; sometimes a mother would 
pass in, with an infant in her arms ; some 
too would go in carelessly, and lightly, 
just because others did, and these seemed 
to come out pretty much as they went in ; 
or if for a while they were graver, and 
seemed more earnest, it soon wore off 
again, and they were as light and thought- 
less as ever. 

While I was musing upon this strange 
sight, and wondering what it might mean, 
methought some one tapped lightly on my 
shoulder. I looked round, and there stood 
by me a comely person with a grave kind 
air, but with eyes in which there was such 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 141 

a brightness, that when I looked into 
them I felt abashed, and fixed mine 
down upon the ground. 

Whilst I cast about in my mind how I 
should speak to him, he first began, and 
said to me, in a mild voice which chased 
away my fears, ' You would see the 
inside of this tent, and know what is 
doing in it : then follow me, and I will 
show you.' 

Thereupon he took me by the hand, 
and led me down to the tent door, which 
he lifted up, and we stood within. There 
were many people within, of all ages 
and countries, gathered round one who 
stood high above them all. He was 
clothed like the grave man who had 
brought me in, but was not so bright and 
terrible to look upon : his voice too was 
soft and winning, and when he turned to 
any, it was with a smile of kindness which 
drew their hearts after him ; so that the 
very children in the tent came near, with- 



142 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

out their little hearts failing them, as one 
by one he called them to him. 

Then my guide led me nigh to this 
man, and placed me at his side, that I 
might see and hear all that passed between 
him and those that were with him in the 
tent. Just then there came to him a man 
of middle years, with a sad heavy counte- 
nance ; his eyes were fixed on the ground, 
and I could see that salt tears were falling 
from them, and running over his hard 
manly cheeks. Kindly and tenderly spake 
the man in white to him, and bid him fear 
not, for that he was about to serve a gra- 
cious master. The words seemed by their 
very sound to open the poor man's heart, 
for he looked up, and almost smiled 
amongst his tears. He said too something 
about having ' fought long against the 
king, and served his enemies, and resisted 
his messages; and that he feared he should 
not now be received as a soldier.' Then 
the man in white bid him look up, and 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 143 

whether it was a beautiful picture or a 
heavenly vision I know not, but he saw the 
forms of bright soldiers in golden arms, 
with crowns upon their heads, and happy 
faces, which seemed bathed in light, so 
gloriously did they shine : and one and 
another looked on the man kindly, and 
seemed to beckon him to join them, till 
his eyes began to sparkle, and his heart to 
beat high with hope. 

Then the man in white bid him look in 
upon himself, and when he saw how unlike 
he was to them, his heart began again to 
die away, but the man raised him up by 
saying to him, " And such were some of 
them, yea, all of them like you were 
rebels once." Then he told him how the 
king had provided for those that under- 
took his service, that they should always 
be held up so long as they looked to him 
for help, and that he would himself ever 
be near them ; that though they could not 
see him with their eyes, or feel him with 



144 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

their hands, yet that he would be close 
by them, and that he would put strength 
into their arms, and cover them in the 
day of battle ; that he himself would help 
them to be faithful to him, if they sought 
his help ; and that then he would at last 
take them to dwell with him in his palace, 
where they would sit at his board, and 
hear his voice, and see his face for ever. 

The poor man s eyes brightened at the 
sound of these brave words, and he said, 
* This is what I want indeed, but are you 
sure that the king will receive, as his 
soldier, one who has so often rebelled 
against his will, and refused to serve 
him?' 

' Of that I can make you sure,' said 
the man in white, ' here is the king's own 
hand and seal for what I do,' and with 
that he opened a book which was sealed 
with the king's seal, and he read to him 
from it, " Go ye into all the world, and 
preach the gospel unto every creature ; he 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 145 

that believeth and is baptized, shall be 
saved ;" and again he showed him in 
another place, " Him that cometh unto 
me, I will in no wise cast out ;" and again, 
to cheer his heart the more, he showed 
him this, " Your sins and your iniquities 
will I remember no more." 

Then was the man's heart glad indeed, 
and with a cheerful voice he said, ' Oh 
sir, let me enter quickly into the service 
of the king.' Then the man in w T hite 
questioned him once more, whether he 
did indeed believe the king's w r ord, and 
would fight his battles, and strive against 
his enemies ; and w T hen he had heard his 
answer, firm and yet humble, he brought 
out a book, in which he wrote down his 
name as one of the king's soldiers ; then 
he made upon his forehead the sign of the 
same cross which I had seen upon the 
banner, and told him that now he was one 
of the king's men, and that he must bear 
him true love unto his life's end. Then 



118 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

lie called him nigh unto himself, and he 
drew out from the king's treasures a bright 
and beautiful ring, which he put upon his 
finger, and called it the ring of adoption. 
There was in it one stone which burnt 
and sparkled like living fire, and round it 
w r as written as in flame — Faith. As he 
put it on his finger he said to him, t Whilst 
this ring remains on thy finger, thou art 
safe ; and whilst this stone burns and 
sparkles so brightly, nothing can draw it 
off; but if ever this grows dull, then look 
to the ring, for it will begin to grow loose 
upon thy finger, and if it once falls off, 
then thou art lost. And now go thy way, 
and God speed thee.' So I saw that the 
man went his w T ay with a glad and cheer- 
ful countenance. 

Then came another before him, and 
with him he dealt in like manner, and so 
did he with his wife, for she too was led 
to wish to do the king service ; and I heard 
him say to her, that some of those whose 




THE TENT ON TEE PLAIN. 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 147 

crowns were brightest, had been once but 
as she was now — a weak woman and ready 
to fall. 

So they were turning away, when the 
eyes of the man in white fell upon a child 
which she was leading by the hand, and a 
little infant whom she was shielding in her 
bosom ; so he looked upon her again, and 
spoke and said, ' And will you not give up 
those little ones, too, to do the king ser- 
vice V 

Then her eyes sparkled more brightly 
than ever ; and she said, ( Oh yes, sir, 
if I may, — but how can such little ones 
perform any service to our king ? ' 

Then the man in white answered her 
again, ' It is true, even the eldest of them 
can scarcely serve him yet, that you can 
see ; but the king is full of love, and he 
w T ould fain have such little ones given up 
to him, and he will put their names in his 
book, and give them the ring of adoption, 
if their parents will bring them unto 



148 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

him, and promise in their names, that 
when they grow to years, they will serve 
their king : and then the king will trust 
them unto you, to bring them up for him. 
Look,' he said, c here is the king's word 
for it.' So he opened the sealed book 
again, and read from it, " Suffer the little 
children to come unto me, and forbid them 
not ;" and again, " The promise is unto 
you and to your children." 5 Then were 
the hearts of the parents glad, and thank- 
fully did they promise for their children 
that they should serve the king hereafter : 
and the sign of the cross was marked upon 
their foreheads, and their names were 
written down in the king's book, and the 
ring of adoption was put on their small 
fingers. Then the man made them observe, 
that there was such virtue in these rings, 
that though they fitted now the smallness 
of these infant fingers, they would fit them 
still hereafter, though . they grew up to 
man's estate and size. He showed them, 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 149 

too, the stone of faith, set in them : but in 
these little rings it sparkled not outwardly. 
1 Already/ saith he, ( is there in these 
stones some inward sparkling, though it 
cannot be seen outwardly, but as the 
children grow in reason, if they grow too 
in grace, the stones shall begin to sparkle 
outwardly. Be it your care to draw out 
this shining.' Then I saw that the mother 
believed, and so the stone in her own ring 
waxed brighter and brighter; but for a 
moment it seemed to me that the father 
doubted, and looking down upon his ring, 
I saw that the stone in it was cloudy ; but 
even while I watched it, it was as w T hen 
a cloud clears off from the sun, and the 
man looked up and thanked the king, 
who had taken his little ones so soon into 
his good and happy service. So they and 
their children passed on and left the tent. 
And I stood and saw others come before 
the man ; and some came as these had 
come, and some seemed to come with 
o 3 



150 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

lightness and no thought. Then I saw 
that the man looked very gravely upon 
such ; and he told them that the king 
they wished to serve was one who "searched 
all hearts, and from whom no secrets were 
hid." Then he questioned them closely, 
and only if they still said that they de- 
sired to serve the king, he wrote down 
their name, and their children's, in the 
king's book of service, and put the rings 
upon their fingers ; but this he did with 
a sorrowful face, and told them that if 
they were not faithful to the king, it 
would make him punish them more dread- 
fully than others ; that they had thus been 
called his servants, and entered as soldiers 
under him. 

For some time had I looked on this 
sight, and marked many coming in and 
going out, until I longed to know how it 
went with them after they had left the 
tent ; how they fought, and who were 
faithful ; and how the little ones grew up 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 151 

who had been so early made soldiers of 
the king. And as these things were in 
my mind, methought my guide touched 
me again, and said, 'Thou wouldest see 
further the end of this matter : then 
follow me.' So I walked after him out 
of the tent. Then my vision was changed; 
for it was now the first dawning of a 
summer morning, and we were crossing a 
mountain side, until we stood over a 
pleasant valley, green with fields, and 
bright with many flowering trees, and 
gay flowers growing in little gardens, round 
thatched cottages, from the chimneys of 
one or two of which the grey-blue smoke 
was just rising, straight and still, into the 
clear morning air. 

Then methought my guide cast on my 
shoulders a beautiful mantle, and straight- 
way we stood within one of the cottages, 
unseen by those around us. We were in 
an upper room, which ^was clean and 
sweet ; for the window was open in the 



15.2 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

thatched roof, and honey-suckle and sweet 
roses hung in bunches by it. There were 
two beds in the room, and one little 
cradle ; and the clothes on the bed were 
very coarse and rough, and mended, but 
all clean and neat and white. In the cradle 
slept a beautiful babe, and as its little 
hands were crossed over its breast, I could 
see that it wore such a tiny ring as had 
been put upon the children in the tent. 
In one of the beds lay a little child asleep, 
and his arm hung down from the bed, and 
1 saw the ring upon his hand. On the 
side of the bed sat a woman ; I thought I 
had seen her before, so I looked again all 
the closer, and I knew that it was the same 
that I had seen in the tent, offering up her 
two children with joy to be the servants 
of the king. Then I looked for her ring ; 
it was safe upon her hand, and sparkling 
brighter than ever. By her stood a little 
boy, just cleanly washed and dressed, 
though his clothes were rough and poor. 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 153 

I looked into the little one's face, and I 
saw it was the same child which had been 
led by the hand in the tent ; but it seemed 
as if two or three years had passed by 
since then, for he was grown now into a 
boy. His mother was speaking to him. 
She told him that he was the king's ser- 
vant, nay, his child. She told him that 
when he was little, she and his father had 
given him to serve the king : and she said 
how good it was of the king, to take such 
children to be His. Then she bade him 
ask the king's help that he might faith- 
fully serve Him that very day. 

So the little fellow looked up with a 
mild face, bent his bare knees, and raised 
his hands which he had folded together, 
while he spoke as his mother taught 
him. And as he put up his hands, I 
could see his ring. There it was, safe 
upon his finger, and it was just begin- 
ning to sparkle, so that any one could 
mark it. 



154 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

Then methought my guide touched me 
again, and we stood in another cottage. 
It was something larger than the last, and 
the things that were in it were not so 
coarse as those I had just seen. But 
although they were finer, they did not 
please me as well, for they were dirty 
and all unmended. 

There stood in the room we were in, 
a woman whose face I had seen before ; 
I cast about, until I bethought me that 
she was one of the careless ones on whom 
the king's minister had looked very sadly, 
and to whom he had spoken words of 
warning, when she came with her husband 
and her children to be entered in the king's 
book. By her side stood a boy who had 
then been with her ; bigger he was than 
the little one in the cottage we had just 
left, but there was no sparkling light on his 
ring ; and alas ! when I looked at it nearer, 
I could see that it was moved far from 
where it had been put upon his finger. 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 155 

His mother had just taken him up, and 
was dressing him ; and I heard her say- 
that he was ' an idle boy/ and in a rough 
voice she bid him e be quick ;' and then 
she hurried him down stairs, and never 
asked help of the king herself, nor bid 
him ask for it either : and when she raised 
her hand to open the latch of the door, I 
saw that her ring was quite dull, and nearer 
off her finger than that of the poor boy. 

My heart was very sad at such a sight, 
and whilst I w T as musing on it, my guide 
asked me, c Wouldest thou see yet more V 
When I said, 6 Yes,' he led me forth, and 
lo ! it was mid-day, and we stood upon the 
village green, and the boys of the vil- 
lage were playing around us : but they 
saw us not, because the invisible mantle 
was on me. Then I saw, amongst the 
rest, the two boys I had seen in the morn- 
ing, but I marked no difference between 
them, for they sported and played about 
like the rest. 



156 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

Then the man took from under his 
cloak a wonderful glass, and he bade me 
look through it at the boys as they played. 
Now the glass made hidden things plain. 
For as soon as I looked through it, I 
saw around the boys, that the air was full 
of ugly and venomous creatures, who were 
the king's enemies. As I looked at them 
through the glass, it seemed as if their 
names were w r ritten upon them, and I 
could read on one, 'bad thoughts,' — and 
on another, ' peevishness,' — and on an- 
other, ' anger,' — on another, 'bad words,' — 
and on another, ' deceit,' — and on another, 
' greediness,' — and on the most hateful- 
looking of all, which had a long venomous 
tongue and a slimy nature, I could read 
the word c lie.' Then I saw that these 
were very busy amongst the boys as they 
played. That they came near to them, 
and 'anger' would push one boy against 
another, to make them quarrel ; and ' bad 
thoughts' would fly there directly, and 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 157 

bring 'bad words' with them, and they 
would all hover about them, and help on 
the quarrel, without the boys seeing or 
knowing they were there. I saw ' greedi- 
ness,' too, lead some of the boys near to 
fruit-trees, on which hungrich and ripe fruit, 
which they had been told not to touch, and 
then ' deceit' would whisper to them that 
nobody would know it, though they should 
take a little. Then I watched to see how 
the boys behaved, and I saw T the little one 
whose ring was dull in the morning, take 
of the forbidden fruit, and eat, and then 
listen to the words of the wicked ( deceit ;' 
and then the hateful ' lie' came close to him, 
and I saw it curl all round the little boy's 
heart, and his ring got deader and deader, 
and seemed ready to fall from his finger. 
Then I saw him offer some of the fruit to 
the other little one I had seen in the morn- 
ing. But he shook his head, and drove 
€ greediness' away, and would not hear a 
word that ' deceit' wanted to whisper ; for 
p 



158 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

he said, ' I must not tell a lie, and take what 
is forbidden me, for I am the king's child, 
and the king sees all I do,' I saw that as 
he named 'the king/ the hateful creatures 
fled away, and his ring seemed firmer than 
ever on his finger, and began to shine and 
sparkle the brighter. So then I knew 
how even little children could serve the 
king, and fight against his enemies. 

Then again my guide touched me, and 
he said, ( Follow r me :' so I followed him 
forth, and we soon stood in the midst of a 
great city, and we passed along its crowded 
streets. Houses were on this side, and 
houses on that ; and the clear air was 
made thick with the smoke of chimneys, 
and the dust of the streets, but still my 
guide led me on and on. At last we came 
to a narrower and more dirty street. Tall 
old houses, which looked ready to fall, 
almost touched one another over the nar- 
row road. Dirty children, who looked pale 
and wretched, screamed in many of the 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 159 

rooms, or sat in a sad sort of half sorrow- 
ful play, on the dirty steps of the houses : 
and dirty men and women talked loud, 
and I heard many bad words as we walked 
along. By one of the dirtiest and worst 
of all the houses my guide stopped, and 
we stood within it. No one saw us, for 
the mantle was on me ; and oh, what a sad 
sight did I see ! There were many in the 
room, for a whole family lived in it, and 
they were wicked people : bad words came 
out of their mouths as often as they 
spoke, and they quarrelled and almost 
fought, and looked as if they hated one 
another. And now I saw that there was 
in one corner of this room near to a 
broken window, a sad-looking bed, in 
which lay a poor sick boy, who seemed 
about ten years old. He was very pale 
and very thin, and there was a bright red 
spot upon his cheek, and he coughed very 
often, and seemed in pain. His face was 
turned towards the window, and his eyes 



160 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

were bent down upon the bed. As I 
leaned over to see what he looked at, I 
saw he was reading in a book, and heard 
him whisper to himself the words — " For- 
sake me not when my strength faileth 
me." (Psalm lxxi. 9.) Then I saw that it 
was in the king's book that he was read- 
ing, and I heard that he was speaking to 
the king, and asking Him to keep him : 
and I saw that his ring was so bright 
and sparkling, it seemed like a little 
ball of living fire. Then my guide bade 
me look through the glass ; and what 
a sight did I see ! All round his bed, 
I could see beautiful forms of heavenly 
creatures, which the king had sent to 
watch over him. ' Promises' were there 
with kind eyes and soft voices whispering 
ever in his ears. * Patience ' held his 
aching head in her lap, and 6 Hope' was 
holding a bright crown just over his head, 
and telling him how soon he would be 
able to wear it. 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 161 

Oh, how sad was it to turn round from 
the happy bed of the dying child, to the 
rest of that sinful room ! To look on the 
dark faces of evil men and women, and to 
hear their evil words, instead of looking at 
the mild glad faces of the angel friends of 
the little one, and catching the soft words 
with which they cheered his soul. But 
my guide bade me mark these people well; 
and I saw that all their rings were dull ; 
dull as if they were dead— and well nigh 
off their fingers. More than one seemed 
to have lost their rings altogether, and one 
I heard boasting that he never had been 
happy till he had thrown his away : but 
when I looked at him through the glass, 
I saw ' Misery,' and ' Sorrow,' and ' Hatred, 
sucking his heart's blood, and the dread- 
ful face of < Despair' coming nigher and 
nigher to him every moment. 

And now I thought within myself, how 
can the child of such parents have learned 
to serve the king faithfully ? My guide 
P 3 



162 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

answered my thoughts, and he told me 
that 'once his ring too had seemed dead 
and well nigh taken from his finger : but 
it pleased the king to send a holy man 
to warn him, and he gave to him the book 
you have seen him read ; and there came 
with it a sweet air from the king's pre- 
sence, which ' ( bloweth where it listeth," 
and the boy began to read in the book and 
love it ; and as he read he learned to call 
to the king earnestly for help, and then 
his ring began to settle on his finger, and 
the shining of the stone to come out, — 
and now look at him again, and see his 
happiness in sorrow.' 

Then I looked again through the glass, 
and more was showed me than before. 
But a little above his bed methought there 
was a golden door, not wholly closed. 
And I could see within it a light more 
beautiful than sunshine, which came from 
a throne whose lowest golden steps I 
could see, and on the top of which, as 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 163 

I doubted not, sat the great king himself. 
Hundreds and thousands of beautiful and 
happy creatures were there. Some I took 
for angels, and some me thought had once 
been men and women. But all wore shining 
crowns, and all were blessed and happy. 

Then as I gazed, methought the door 
opened wider ; and I saw the gentlest 
of all those heavenly beings fly down 
to the sick boy's bed ; and ' Mercy ' was 
written on her brow. She stretched out 
her hand, and he arose, and flew up 
with them to the golden door ; and I 
could hear a burst of happy music, as 
they entered, and I saw a bright crown 
reached out. And the face of the dead 
boy, (for I looked into his bed, and he 
breathed no more,) shone with the bright 
light of that heavenly temple ! 

Then I awoke from my vision : but my 
thoughts still stayed with me, and I saw 
how good it was to be the soldier of the 
king, and to fight his battles faithfully. 



164 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

Q. Who is the king who takes rebels 
as his soldiers ? 

A. The Lord our God : who says, 
" Am not I a great king ?" 

Q. Who are these rebels ? 

A. All mankind : for it is written, 
"All have sinned and come short of the 
glory of God." Rom. iii. 23. And again : 
"We were by nature children of wrath, 
even as others." Eph. ii. 3. 

Q. When does God receive us out of 
this state ? 

A. At our baptism, " Wherein we are 
made members of Christ, children of God, 
and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven."* 

Q. What is the ring of adoption ? 

A. Our being taken to be God's own 
children. 

Q. What is the sparkling stone ? 

A. The faith by which we must our- 
selves believe in Christ, if we would be 
saved. 

* Catechism. 



be 



THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 165 

Q. What is the meaning of the stone 
becoming dull ? 

A. A child of God growing up unfaith- 
1, or forgetful of Him. 

Q. "Will baptism do such children any 
good ? 

A. No, not if they continue unfaithful : 
for then at last they cast off the ring of 
adoption. 

Q,. What is baptism to such persons ? 

A. A greater condemnation : as God 
says, Amos iii. 2. 

Q. How soon may we begin to fight 
the good fight of faith ? 

A. As soon as we know any thing. 

Q. What are the dreadful forms which 
the glass showed ? 

A. Temptations to sin. 

Q. Then are little children tempted to 
sin ? 

A. Yes ; that they are, very often. 

Q,. And how must they resist ? 

A. By remembering whose children 



166 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 

they are ; and that God the Father sees 
them ; and that he for Christ's sake will 
help them if they pray, and so by asking 
always for His help. 

Q. What are the good forms the glass 
showed ? 

A. The helps God will give to those 
who pray to him. 

Q. What are we to learn from the 
dying boy ? 

A. That God will take holy children 
to dwell with Him for ever in His heavenly 
glory. 



THE END. 



R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL, LONDON 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 



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